


More Like Two Days

by SilverThunder



Series: GITW Verse [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Frottage, M/M, Sarumi Fest 2016, Top!Fushimi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverThunder/pseuds/SilverThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fushimi and Yata discover that relationships are a tricky business, and communicating clearly isn't always easy. Particularly when you're not so sure what you want in the first place...</p><p>Written for Sarumi Fest 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to my AU fanfic, Give It Two Weeks. You could probably follow along on this one without too much trouble even if you haven't read the main fic, but there might be a few details that will cause confusion. I recommend reading that one first.
> 
> Additional warning tags will be added as new chapters are posted. There will be explicit sexual content, as the rating suggests.

Waking in Misaki’s apartment was starting to become normal. Fushimi recognized the different play of light behind his eyelids before even opening them, and when he did manage to do so, the sight of Misaki’s back on the futon next to his was familiar and comfortable.

It had been a little over a month since they’d started dating. In many ways it was still strange, but in this sense, things were good.

Better than good, if he was willing to stretch it.

 _I finished late last night, huh?_ There had been an emergency in a case he’d been partnered with Hidaka on, and the two of them had worked frantically – well, frantically on Hidaka’s part – until well past closing time for the café in order to follow up on a lead. A lead that had led to precisely nowhere in the end, and Fushimi was still thoroughly annoyed with himself for not seeing the easier solution earlier.

The look of almost comic relief on Hidaka’s face once they’d hit their target was a little bit gratifying, despite everything.

When he’d texted Misaki, he hadn’t really expected a reply. Misaki worked the second shift this morning, so it would have made more sense for him to have gone home by himself. It was nearing eleven, so if Misaki was smart, he’d have been sleeping already. Fushimi had resigned himself to sleeping alone in his own bed – something that hadn’t happened since they’d started dating – and so the reply, ‘waiting at homra’, had caught him off-guard.

The rush of warm relief was puzzling in a logical sense – they were probably going to sleep through most of the hours they’d have together anyway, so what did it matter? – but he’d gotten used to that. Emotions, it turned out, didn’t make a lot of sense.

 _Not that it matters._ Falling asleep to the blurry sight of Misaki’s warm, sleepy smile made the illogical, flighty nature of these feelings worthwhile.

As he shifted into full wakefulness, Fushimi became aware of a more troublesome issue and bit back a sharp sigh. There was a tight, anxious tension and ache between his legs – the unmistakable and inconvenient feel of a morning erection.

 _Because we didn’t do anything about this yesterday, probably._ There hadn’t exactly been time. They’d woken to the alarm, cleaned up and dressed, shared a quick breakfast and a few hasty kisses, and left for work. And then that disaster had happened, so there hadn’t been time or energy for more than some lazy kissing the night before, either.

He was feeling a little deprived, which was ridiculous but probably also couldn’t be helped. Less than a week ago, a deep kissing session had unexpectedly turned into grinding against each other. It had been clumsy and heated and rushed, but it had also felt good – _right_ – in a way it hadn’t before. Timing, probably. That magical, seemingly arbitrary point in time when things stopped being overwhelming and became inevitable. Either way, the sensation of Misaki gasping against his mouth, body shivering and twitching against Fushimi’s in climax, had trigged a release that was more intense than expected. In the aftermath, they’d stared at each other, red-faced and stunned, coming down from what seemed like an impossible high, and the physical satisfaction had blended seamlessly into emotional gratification in Fushimi’s brain.

Endorphins, probably, but that didn’t change the fact that it had been amazing.

Since then, it was like a floodgate had opened. He _craved_ that feeling. It was kind of like how he imagined being addicted to drugs felt. This wasn’t like perfunctorily releasing tension on his own or even when he’d had the remembered sight and feel of Misaki to keep him company. The truth of the matter was that since that single incident, he thought about doing it far more than he wanted to admit – and whenever he was around Misaki, the feeling intensified. It was as if his body was catching up with the years of never knowing what being a horny teenager was like. Which was inconvenient and just short of mortifying, for a number of reasons.

The one redeeming factor was that Misaki seemed to feel exactly the same. That helped enormously, in fact. After some awkward hesitance, Fushimi had quickly learned that he didn’t need to hold back when they were alone. Misaki certainly didn’t – once he’d learned that Fushimi welcomed the idea, he was enthusiastic to the point of being aggressive about it. There had been a couple of times they’d shut the door to one of their apartments only to immediately press up against it in a storm of heat and suppressed tension. They grappled on the futon at Misaki’s apartment – on the bed at Fushimi’s – moving from grinding to fumbled hand jobs on the third go at it. Once, they’d done it in the morning and then again that night and then _again_ the following morning, without even seeming to lose momentum. It was like throwing gasoline on a fire – each occurrence seemed to make things that much more intense and addicting.

Yesterday, he’d caught himself briefly considering leaving work during lunch break to see if Misaki wanted to find someplace private for a half hour or so, and he’d had to firmly rein himself back, because that was just _too much_.

Enough was enough.

Still, there was nothing to hold back from _now_. Fushimi reached for his phone, squinting at it for a moment to confirm the time – it was still twenty minutes before Misaki’s alarm would go off, which was more than enough if they were quick about it.

If Misaki felt anything like he did, which was likely, it was going to be quick regardless.

 _Is it okay to wake him up for something like this?_ There had been a few times that Misaki had woken him with a kiss, nervously at first but with growing confidence when Fushimi had responded by kissing back sleepily. It had been nice. But then, there was a difference between waking someone with a kiss and waking someone for sex.

Of course, if Misaki felt the same, he’d probably be grateful…

 _I’ll kiss him awake, and see where things go._ Misaki had done that to him, so it was fair game as far as Fushimi was concerned. He pushed himself up on his elbow, shrugged the covers off of his shoulders and squinted at Misaki’s back for a moment, considering.

Like him, Misaki preferred to sleep in a thin shirt and boxers, but last night he’d gone with a singlet rather than a T-shirt. On his side and with the covers down around his elbows, it left his bare arm and an expanse of neck exposed. His body moved sluggishly in the rhythm of deep sleep, expanding and contracting.

Sliding the covers the rest of the way off of him, Fushimi shifted forward onto the other futon. He could feel the warmth radiating from Misaki’s body as he drew closer; it was an intoxicating feeling.

 _Don’t get carried away,_ he admonished himself. It was the same thing he’d been telling himself on multiple occasions this past week, but it helped to keep that resolve firmly in mind. He was kissing Misaki awake, and that was it.

All the same, as he leaned in close enough to catch Misaki’s unique scent and the sight of his sleeping face from that short range, he could already feel the resolve weakening. When he pressed his lips tentatively to the soft patch of skin at the junction between Misaki’s ear and jaw, he felt the familiar almost-painful twinge from the hard lump between his legs, and his breath caught.

There wasn’t even a stir from his sleeping boyfriend.

_Just a little more, then…_

It was an awkward angle to try and capture Misaki’s lips from, so Fushimi indulged himself by continuing from his current spot, feathering light kisses to the corner of Misaki’s jaw. As he hit the line of neckline, Misaki made a little sound and shifted very slightly, but slept on. When Fushimi lifted up a bit to study his face, skin prickling, his eyelids were twitching.

_Not enough, huh?_

Maybe he needed to be more forward. Misaki was a deep sleeper; soft kisses might not be enough. It was kind of appealing in both a physical and mental sense, figuring out the right steps to take. Fushimi allowed himself a tiny smile, lowering again to kiss the lean side of neck. He pressed more firmly this time, parting his lips and darting his tongue out just briefly.

The faint hint of salt and bitterness in the taste seemed to flood his senses; at the same time, the sensation of skin beneath his tongue lit a fire in his belly. It was smooth but strong, and he wanted more – much more; everything. Every sensation that originated with _Misaki_ seemed to engulf him, and he could barely breathe. A sweet suffocation.

Fushimi was vaguely aware that he’d braced a hand on Misaki’s bare shoulder when he felt the stirring beneath it. Misaki made another unconscious little sound, and the rushing in Fushimi’s ears seemed to overpower everything.

He parted briefly from his place on Misaki’s neck and shifted lower, allowing himself the luxury of running his tongue up along the line of taut skin, pausing near the top to plant his lips and _suck_. The shiver it generated in his own body in response was dangerously pleasant; his cock stirred and his hips shifted in the beginnings of an instinctive motion forward.

_Don’t get… Don’t…_

It was impossible. A few days ago, Fushimi had thought that, considering the current state of things between them, it would probably be a good idea to look into the specifics of what lay ahead. The last thing he wanted was to be caught unprepared if and when they decided to step things up.

He kind of regretted it now.

Originally, the results had been a bit daunting – leaning towards unappealing – but as he’d considered it, he’d found himself shifting to curiosity and then to a kind of hesitant desire. After spending one or two of their “sessions” with those thoughts on his mind, he was now having trouble keeping it to the back of his thoughts.

If he was being honest, he wanted to try it. Going “all the way” with Misaki.

How would it feel? What kind of reactions would Misaki show? Those were the thoughts fueling him, clouding his thoughts as he shifted his hips again, the tantalizing warmth of Misaki’s body just inches from his aching erection.

It was almost too much…

“Mmm.” The low hum emerging from Misaki’s mouth caused his throat to vibrate; he shifted consciously beneath Fushimi’s hand and mouth, sucking in a long breath and jarring Fushimi from his lust-fueled haze.

It was like a bucket of cold water. Fushimi pulled back, staring with foggy disbelief at the red mark forming on Misaki’s neck. A mark _he_ had left. Without consciously meaning to.

 _I decided_ not _to get carried away, didn’t I? But then this…_

It was a little unsettling how powerful those urges could be. The loss of control almost frightened him.

There wasn’t really time to stew in it, though, because Misaki abruptly shifted, rolling lazily onto his back and then surging up to his other side as Fushimi made room for him, his arm snaking around Fushimi’s waist and his eyes narrow and heated.

“Saruhiko,” he growled, low and throaty, almost against Fushimi’s mouth as he leaned in for a sloppy but insistent kiss.

_Well, I’ll worry about it later…_

There wasn’t going to be any kind of finesse to this, Fushimi realized quickly, but he was too wound up to care much. He wound his arms around Misaki’s neck as they ground together, trading little moans and whimpers into the open-mouthed kiss as the slick pressure of tongues and lips increased the heat between them exponentially.

_Misaki... Misaki… yes…_

Their cocks rubbed together in frantic, unfocussed rhythm, the pressure in Fushimi’s lower belly increasing almost painfully. Misaki’s hold tightened around his waist as he thrust forward with aggressive need, moaning with unsuppressed abandon into Fushimi’s mouth.

This was the side of Misaki that drove him wild: all that uncontained passion. Fushimi groaned in response, long and low, thrusting back mindlessly. He couldn’t get enough.

Release came swift and hard, orgasm wracking through him in waves. A small, choked noise escaped him without warning as his body shook with pleasure and relief, helpless against the rush of sensation. A few more swift, hard motions later and Misaki was following, breaking apart from Fushimi’s lips to let out a moan as he shuddered violently.

 _Always so good…_ Fushimi’s dick gave a final tug at the feeling, body already cooling in the aftermath.

They lay there for another short moment, foreheads touching and heavy breaths mingling in the air between them as they came down. Misaki’s face was flushed, but the sleepy film had cleared from his eyes; they went lidded in a second, lips spreading into a wicked little smirk when he met Fushimi’s gaze.

“Damn, Saruhiko,” he murmured, tone fervent. “That was… wow.” He gave the tiniest shake of his head, forehead shifting just a bit, and let out a rush of breath. “Fucking awesome!”

The reaction soothed what remained of Fushimi’s anxiety. He smiled back, his own lids lowering. “I woke you up early, though.”

Misaki let out a small huff of a laugh, arm tightening briefly around his waist. “Yeah, you can wake me early like _that_ any time.” He shut his eyes for a moment, smile widening with blissed-out contentment. “No complaints here.”

There was no way to see the mark from earlier at this angle, but it was probably starting to take on a hint of purple now. Fushimi felt a little surge of unwanted guilt and resisted the urge to click his tongue, momentarily jarred from his good mood.

_I wonder if he’ll be so enthusiastic once he’s noticed it…_

It was his fault for getting carried away despite his best efforts. Fushimi shut his eyes, torn between an edge of discomfort at his own lack of control and frustration over the direction his thoughts had taken.

 _Again._ Regardless of how often he thought about it, the fact of the matter was that things weren’t going to go according to his own desires. He couldn’t imagine Misaki being anything but uncomfortable with the idea, so it wasn’t worth bringing up. Things were good between them. They didn’t need that kind of added complication.

Still, he couldn’t seem to shake that urge – the imagined sensation of pressing into Misaki’s body that his traitorous brain kept stubbornly summoning back up in response to the slightest provocation.

_There’s no way that’ll happen._

It really was an impossible fantasy. If anything, the way Misaki moved against him, straightforward and demanding, should be a sign that he’d be far more interested in the reverse.

And it wasn’t that he _minded_ that particularly, but it was a little frustrating.

Desire could be such a pain, honestly.

The arm that had been looped around his waist lifted; a second or two later, Misaki’s fingers brushed over his cheek. Fushimi opened his eyes to his boyfriend’s puzzled and slightly worried expression. “Hey,” Misaki said, voice low. “What’s up?”

At that, he did click his tongue. _That was careless._ “Nothing much.”

“Yeah, sure.” Misaki frowned in response, obviously not buying it. “Don’t bottle that shit up, huh? S’not good for ya.”

Fushimi couldn’t help a small, incredulous snort. “Speaking as the expert at bottling things up, right?”

The frown shifted to a scowl. “You know what I mean, asshole!” Something shifted in Misaki’s eyes, a kind of wary uncertainty. “I’m not good at reading moods and stuff, so you gotta tell me if something’s bugging you. I… y’know…” A tiny hint of desperation flickered in those amber depths. “I don’t wanna lose anything else because I don’t understand,” he finished thickly.

Something within him resounded strongly with that open plea. Fushimi swallowed, forcing himself not to turn away. He didn’t want to run from this – not when he knew exactly what was behind the storm in Misaki’s eyes. “It isn’t anything like that,” he mumbled and took in a breath. “… I’ll tell you sooner or later.”

 _I’m not sure how you’ll react, though…_ That was something he’d have to prepare himself for.

He got a rueful, lopsided smile in response, but that awful tension seemed to ease from Misaki’s expression. “Got it.” He shut his eyes again, pressing forward against Fushimi’s forehead a bit as his shoulders loosened with relief. “Thanks, Saruhiko.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, stupid.” Fushimi clicked his tongue softly, but felt the corners of his mouth edge up a little all the same. The atmosphere between them had become comfortable again; in the wake of that moment, it really did feel like he could say anything and things would be okay.

Still, that didn’t mean he felt like blurting things out thoughtlessly. “I need to change,” he muttered instead, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the damp, sticky mess he’d made of his shorts. There wouldn’t be time for a bath, unfortunately. “This’ll be the last pair of clean underwear I’ve got, so I’ll need to make a stop at my place sometime today if we’re coming back here.”

“Ah.” Misaki’s voice had a hesitant edge to it; his mouth twisted a little with something like anxiety. “Saruhiko, actually… Truth is, I kinda had something I wanted to talk about, too.” A hint of color was rising again on his cheeks; he lifted the hand on Fushimi’s face to scratch the back of his head, and muttered almost as if to himself, “Just… how to start…”

 _Misaki…?_ Fushimi’s breath stuck in his throat for a moment, skin prickling up.

Considering the subject, was it possible…?

“Just – just hear me out, okay?” Misaki’s gaze took on that determined look, his lips curling down in a stubborn frown against his own obvious embarrassment. “S’not like we need to do it right away, but it’s just… I was kinda thinking… maybe… it might be time – or something…”

 _Seriously._ A little tendril of relief wound its way through Fushimi’s thoughts; he let out a short breath, faintly amused at the obvious fumbling. It turned out their thoughts really were in sync, after all – it was probably no surprise after the past week. Though he was still pretty certain they’d have different ideas about positioning… _Well, we can figure that out later, I guess._

Still, if he waited for Misaki to get around to blurting it out, it might not even happen before the alarm went off. “Spit it out,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow slightly at the scowl he got back. “It’s not that big a deal, right?”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!” Misaki shot him a disgruntled look. “Anyway, I could say the same to you, huh? Spit yours out too if it’s so easy!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, slightly exasperated. It was too easy to get caught up in this pace. “Fine.” He frowned back, eyes narrowing. “I’ll follow your lead, so hurry it up.”

If anything, Misaki’s mouth curved even more into that stubborn downward arc. “At the same time then, asshole – c’mon.” He took in a breath, watching Fushimi’s face expectantly. “Ready?”

 _This is ridiculous._ All the same, he didn’t feel like backing down now that it came to this. “Just get on with it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it!” Misaki shifted a bit, squaring his shoulders as best he could in their position. “So, on three – one… two…”

“Let’s have sex,” Fushimi said flatly, aiming to keep his voice matter-of-fact – at the same time as Misaki blurted, almost in a rush, “Let’s move in together!”

They stared at each other for what felt like a long, impossibly still moment.

Abruptly, the sound of Misaki’s alarm cut through the silence, obnoxious and loud. Misaki jolted, startled, and then let out a soft but fervent curse, breaking free of Fushimi’s hold to roll over and fumble for his phone. He sat up as he grabbed it, impatiently jabbing at the screen to shut the thing up.

Silence fell again, swiftly growing uncomfortable.

 _This really just happened, didn’t it?_ Fushimi sat up himself, reaching for his glasses for lack of something better to do. He was thoroughly irritated with himself for having _once again_ been carried away in the moment, leaping to a flawed and erroneous assumption without bothering to think it through. What on earth was wrong with him lately?

 _You went and fell for someone like a complete idiot, that’s what,_ his brain supplied dryly as he slid the frames on over his ears.

He couldn’t exactly argue with that.

“So…” When he turned, Misaki was giving him a strangely tentative look. He shrugged, looking awkward about it. “You mean… s-sex, like… like more than what we just did. Right?”

Fushimi regarded him narrowly for a second. It didn’t seem like he was joking. _He seriously never even thought about it._ Somehow, that stung – he wasn’t sure if it was a harder hit to his pride or his feelings.

_I’m the only one who wanted it, huh?_

It was vaguely humiliating. “Never mind,” he muttered, turning sharply to avoid Misaki’s eyes. “Forget it.” He reached for his own phone, swiping it open and disabling the alarm he’d set for himself. “Anyway, we’re going to be late if we don’t – ”

Misaki’s hand grabbed his arm before he could push himself up, swift and hard. When Fushimi glanced back at him, startled, his expression was stubborn. “Don’t pull that bullshit!” he snapped, eyes flashing. “It’s not like I thought we’d never…” He grimaced, looking a bit uncomfortable, but plowed on anyway. “Anyway, whatever! It’s out there now, so let’s fucking talk about it! C’mon!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning his gaze again. “There’s no point if we don’t both want to.”

“I-I never said I didn’t want to!” Misaki blurted, his fingers tightening almost painfully. Fushimi turned warily and caught sight of the flush spreading across the bridge of his nose again. “What the hell? Don’t put words in my mouth! Of course I wanna do it with you, dumbass!”

There was such fervent sincerity in those words that Fushimi was struck dumb for a moment, unable to do more than blink. He recovered quickly, frowning. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Wh-what the hell do you expect? You just brought it up out of nowhere!” Misaki glared back, embarrassment spread plainly across his face. It was quite a sight. “I was surprised, okay?”

Fushimi lowered his eyelids, regarding him flatly. “Because you never thought about it.”

“Yeah, so?” Misaki’s scowl deepened. “Just ‘cause I never thought of it doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to! I wanna do _everything_ with you, jerk!” There was a brief pause after that impassioned declaration; he seemed to rethink the words and added hastily, “I mean, most things.” He cleared his throat, drawing himself up with obvious determination, and boldly added, “If you wanna do it, I’ll at least give it serious thought! So tell me what you want! All right?”

Fushimi shut his eyes. The fantasy was still there, hovering at the back of his mind. He felt both dread and relief at the notion of putting it out there. It was like he was baring his private thoughts too clearly, leaving himself vulnerable. He didn’t find that appealing in the slightest. But at the same time, he was tired of hiding it – tired of holding back. If Misaki knew…

 _Something like this wouldn’t cause us to break apart._ He didn’t believe it truly, deep down, but until he did, he was going to keep repeating that. And pushing himself. It was the only way it would ever _become_ true.

Still, it was hard to let go of the last tiny bit of defense. “You won’t like it,” he mumbled.

Misaki snorted in response. “Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that!” He shifted, obviously impatient. “Go head – hit me with your best shot!”

 _Seriously, what do you think this conversation is even about?_ Fushimi let out a sigh, opening his eyes and fixing his boyfriend with a narrow look. He reached up with his free hand to push his glasses up on his nose, forcing his voice into a flat, even tone. “Just remember that you’re the one who asked for it,” he said, and took in a breath.

 

* * *

 

 

_“To put it bluntly, I want to fuck you.”_

Hours later, and Yata could still hear those words in his head, delivered in that deliberately dull tone that Saruhiko used sometimes. The sharp, cautious look in those blue eyes felt like it was piercing right through him, even now.

_Shit._

“You all right, Yata-san?” Kamamoto was giving him a slightly concerned look. “Seems like you’ve been spacing out all morning. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, already!” It came out more defensive than he would’ve liked. Yata scowled, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head, and added gruffly, “My bad. I got stuff on my mind, s’all.”

Well, one thing. One _big_ thing. Unless he was talking physically, in which case, probably about average –

_Fuck. Shut up already!_

This whole stupid business had caught him off-guard. He was kicking himself for it now, but truthfully he hadn’t thought much about sex. Or at least, _that_ kind of sex. His thoughts were full of the stuff they were already doing. He wanted to touch Saruhiko pretty much all the time, any time of day. He didn’t even have to be self-conscious about how much he wanted it, because Saruhiko seemed just as into it. That morning was just another example, and it had been fucking great – like everything else this past week. That feeling when they ground together, all hot and desperate and squirmy… it was like…

Right. Anyway. It was good.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t even thought about the next step. Next few steps. Whatever.

Yata let his hand drop to his neck, aiming his frown at the counter in front of him as he turned things over in his mind again. He wasn’t naïve or anything – he’d known he was bi since he was a teenager, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know how gay sex worked. Hell, he’d been curious about it back then. But he hadn’t thought about it like… something he and Saruhiko would actually _do._ There was a difference between ‘wonder what that feels like’ and ‘gonna find out _exactly_ what that feels like’.

In short, he wasn’t mentally prepared. At all.

Saruhiko had taken his stunned silence as rejection too, adding an _“It’s fine if you don’t want to”_ before Yata had a chance to let things sink in. That was kind of annoying. Reassuring in a way, but still annoying. What the hell did he expect, throwing that kind of shit out there all of a sudden? Yata was supposed to be totally chill about the sudden declaration of ‘I wanna stick my dick up your ass’?

_At least give me some time to think it the fuck over, you prick!_

For all that, he wasn’t really pissed at Saruhiko. Hell, he was trying – admitting something like that probably wasn’t easy for him. And even though they were kinda complete opposites in a lot of ways, Yata more or less got that aspect of Saruhiko’s personality. He was a pessimist in the worst way, always looking at the worst case scenario. Assuming a rejection was coming was pretty much his default. But he’d still managed to be open about what he wanted, even if it had taken some prying on Yata’s part, and he was quick to say it was fine if they didn’t end up doing it. There wasn’t a hell of a lot to complain about in all that.

Honestly, the thing that really pissed him off –

Homra’s front entrance jingled enthusiastically, snapping him out of those thoughts. “Yo,” Chitose greeted them casually, stepping inside. “Busy today?”

“Hey,” Kamamoto greeted him, before Yata could pull his thoughts into order. “S’not too bad, actually. Morning rush just ended.”

“Cool. I’ll just hang out then.” Chitose’s shift didn’t start for another hour. He lifted the counter to step beyond. “Want me to grab stock for you guys?”

“I did that earlier,” Eric responded quietly, without looking up from his book. He was on break, relaxing at one of the empty tables.

“Got it.” Chitose opened the door to the back. “Guess I’ll grab one of those cakes.”

“You’ll get in trouble with Kusanagi-san if he notices.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t pay for it, man – what d’you take me for?” Chitose shook his head, offering a rueful half-smirk before he could get an answer. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m happier not knowing.”

The start of an idea was turning over in Yata’s head as his friends bantered in front of him. It wasn’t ideal – honestly, if Kusanagi or Totsuka were there, either one of them would’ve been a better choice – but he was feeling too antsy to bottle this up until they were around. Not like he had a time limit, but still…

_I wanna figure this shit out soon and stop worrying about it!_

“Be right back!” he announced hastily to Kamamoto and hurried after Chitose into the back room.

Chitose raised a questioning eyebrow over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind them. “What’s up?”

He hadn’t been expecting that – Yata froze up for a moment, caught by the awkward nature of his own question, and then steadied himself, clearing his throat a bit uncomfortably. “Kinda wanted to ask you something. Got a sec?”

“Yeah, sure.” Chitose shrugged in response, and then squinted at Yata, a little frown forming on his face. “Huh.”

 _The hell’s that s’posed to mean?_ Yata raised an eyebrow, caught between disgruntled and confused. “What?”

Chitose’s expression seemed to clear; he raised both eyebrows in response, the frown turning up into a tiny, almost sly smile. “Any chance your question’s got something to do with that hickey you got going there?”

 _Fuck._ Yata immediately slapped a hand over his neck, feeling heat scrambling up in a rush to get to his face. He’d just about forgotten about that. “Th-that’s not…” Okay, maybe it kinda was – there had to be some connection if Saruhiko was putting marks on him _now_ , at the same time as bringing up that other shit. Not that they’d ever talked about it, or had any rules about _not_ doing it – it was embarrassing, but he couldn’t say he’d minded the feeling. Waking up to feel the damp, warm suction of his boyfriend’s mouth against his neck had been intense and gratifying. And then later on Saruhiko had apologized, mumbling something about getting carried away, and it was hard to be annoyed about it. Yata had made a comment that was only halfway joking about returning the favor and Saruhiko had given him that _look_ , lashes lowered and eyes intent, and said he didn’t mind. His throat felt like it had suddenly gone dry with want in that second. Only half an hour after they’d already done something like _that_ , too…

_Goddamnit… Stop thinking already!_

“J-just… never mind!” Yata scowled back at his friend, feeling defensive over it. At least the other two had been polite enough not to bring it up. “I’m looking for serious advice here, not smartass comments!”

Chitose shook his head, smile spreading into a grin. “Yeah, fair enough.” He turned to open the cooler that held the extra slices of the cakes they displayed up front. “What’s on your mind?”

Right. That. Now that it came down to it, Yata wasn’t totally sure how he was going to start. He shifted the hand on his neck a bit, scowl deepening. “You – you’ve done a lot of… y’know… _that_ kinda stuff. Right?”

“Huh?” Chitose paused, and then turned to raise an eyebrow. “What, you mean sex?”

“Y-you don’t have to say it so – ” Fuck, this was embarrassing. Yata sucked in an agitated breath, cutting himself off. “Never mind. How’d you – ? I mean, the first time, d-did you ask or – ?” None of it was coming out right; he expelled that breath harshly and swore.

“The first time?” For a moment, Chitose actually looked openly startled. There was a faint edge of alarm in his eyes, there and gone so quickly that Yata wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. Then he shook his head, that small easy smile sliding back onto his face as he pulled the cake he was after out of the fridge. “What’re you trying to get at here, Yata?”

“Goddamnit…” That came out as a low mutter. Yata drew in a frustrated breath and straightened, meeting his friend’s gaze with determination. “Saruhiko said he wants to fuck me, okay? That’s what I’m getting at!”

Chitose stared at him for an uncomfortable second, clearly taken aback. “Huh.” Then he abruptly grinned, reaching out unexpectedly to clap a hand heartily on Yata’s shoulder. “Hey, congrats, man!”

 _The hell?_ “Don’t just say ‘congrats’ without listening to the rest, jerk!”

“Oh… my bad.” Chitose shrugged, pulling back his hand easily and turning to grab a plate. “But hey, if you don’t wanna do it, you should just say so – your guy won’t mind, right?” That came with another raised eyebrow over his shoulder. “And by the way, if the answer’s not ‘right, he won’t mind’, then fuck him.” A pause. “Just not literally.”

This was not how he’d thought the conversation would go – hell, he wasn’t sure now what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Yata felt his eyebrow twitch. “Th-that’s not the issue here!” Curling his fingers against the back of his neck, he let out a soft ‘ch’ and dropped his gaze, muttering, “Never said I didn’t want to.”

He _did_ want to – that was the truth. He wanted to go all the way with Saruhiko. Wanted to try a bunch of different things, probably – eventually. The way it felt when they touched each other was incredible. That chemistry he’d picked up on near the beginning of all this extended to doing this kind of stuff, too. And it was natural to want more. He got all of that.

Still…

“I’m missing something, then.” Chitose lifted a slice onto his newly acquired plate, frowning a bit as he did. “’Cause I don’t see the problem here.”

“I’m getting to it, okay?” Yata scowled, struggling to find a way to put this in the least embarrassing way possible. “Just… just gimme a minute!”

“No worries.” Chitose shrugged, turning to put the rest of the cake back into the cooler. “I’m not going anywhere – take your time.”

“Right. Yeah.” As if that made it less awkward. Yata let his hand drop, heaving a frustrated sigh. “It’s just… y’know. Feels weird.”

“What does?” Chitose kicked the cooler door shut, picking up his plate. “Sex?”

“How the fuck would I know? Not like I’ve tried it!” This wasn’t coming out right at all. Yata curled his lip. “Damnit, I dunno… All of it! _He_ wants to fuck _me_ – do you get that?” It came out in a rush, and somehow it was easier to keep going from there. “Not like I haven’t thought about it, but it’s weird, right? It’s not something most men do – right?”

Chitose blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait… but… y’know, he’s a man too…”

“I know that!” He liked that too – the memory of Saruhiko’s erection grinding against his was still strong enough to make his ears burn. Yata struggled not to lose focus. “I know, it’s just… fuck!” He shook his head sharply, turning his gaze with another ‘ch’. “It’s a matter of – of pride, okay?” That came with a scowl. “He brought it up first, and I hadn’t even thought about it – it was so uncool, damnit!”

A second of stark silence, and then Chitose asked, in an even tone, “So… you’re okay with sex, but you don’t want him to do it to you? You’d rather do it to him then, or what?”

“Huh?” Yata’s head swung back up, a rush of nerves jolting through him at the frank question. “H-how’m I s’posed to know? That’s not the issue h – ”

“Okay, so what’s the issue?” Chitose raised both eyebrows that time, skeptically. “You say he wants sex like that’s a bad thing, but then you say you’re cool with it. You say he wants to fuck you like _that’s_ the problem, but then you say it’s not the issue either.” He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “So what gives here?”

 _Ugh._ Yata turned his gaze again, frustrated and feeling like his pride had taken a hit. His heart was hammering against his ribcage at that point, and his head felt like a swirling mass of confusion and embarrassment. “I-it’s…” He really wasn’t sure how to put words to the blend of complicated thoughts and emotions that he was bursting at the seams with. He actually _wanted_ to do this, like… fuck, how long since he’d wondered if he’d ever get to try it for himself, either way? But when it came down to it… when he thought about this actual situation…

 _Goddamnit…_ “He fucking… he brought it up first,” Yata muttered finally, not quite meeting Chitose’s frank gaze. “I didn’t even think about it, and he’s bringing it up, and he wants to _fuck_ me…” He grimaced, recognizing how stupid that sounded even as he said it. At his sides, his hands clenched into fists. “It’s uncool. I mean, what the _hell?_ What kind of man am I?”

There was another moment of uncomfortably thick silence, and then Chitose said, in a dry tone, “Seriously?”

Yata jerked his head up to glare in response. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“It means ‘seriously, what the hell, Yata?’ – what d’you think it means?” Chitose raised an eyebrow at him again. “What’s the big deal about him asking first? I’ve dated girls who were pretty forward about it – doesn’t make me less of a man.”

 _That’s not the goddamn point!_ Yata’s fists tightened at his sides, almost painfully. “Easy for you to say!” He deepened his scowl, glowering back with all his might, and snapped back without thinking, “Not like you’ve ever taken it up the ass, have you?”

The door opened behind him almost as soon as the words were out, cutting into the mood with sharp precision. “I have,” Eric’s quiet voice announced, into the sudden silence. When Yata turned to gawk at him, he added flatly, “By the way, you’re standing right by the door – we can hear everything out there.”

“Hu… huh?” Yata stared at him, disbelieving at first and then with a steadily growing horror. Through the open door, he could see Kamamoto standing behind the counter, an awkward, apologetic smile on his face. “W-wait… you – you heard…?”

“S’not that big a deal, Yata-san!” Kamamoto offered, hastily. “Nobody else came in or anything!” After a split second of hesitation, he added, “And – y’know – my girlfriend was the one to bring up that stuff first, too…”

It felt like he was going to combust, with all the heat rushing to his face. Yata stuttered for a moment, caught in a moment of helpless humiliation. “I – b-but – you just – just – “ He managed to summon a desperate glare. “Th-that has nothing to do with this, okay? It’s totally different!”

“If you say so,” Eric responded blandly. He stepped into the room, letting the door shut behind him as he moved on. “Not like it’s my business, but don’t you think it’s more uncool to be threatened by something like this?”

“I-I’m not – ” The protest came out weak; Yata reached up with a frustrated jerky motion to scratch at the back of his head, agitated. It was true – he was totally feeling threatened. And if he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t about Saruhiko fucking him at all – even if that was kinda of nerve-wracking to think about. It was about the fact that he’d been caught off-guard. He hadn’t even _thought_ about full-on sex, and Saruhiko was already making plans about positions. It was – it was intimidating. He felt so lame. It should’ve been on his mind already, and the fact that it wasn’t really made it feel like he was a failure of a boyfriend. Couldn’t even handle this kind of important shit at all.

Chitose’s hand clapped on his shoulder again, with less force and more of a steadying pressure this time. When he looked up, he got a crooked smile in return. “Hey, cheer up,” his friend said, with a tiny shrug. “We’ve all got hang-ups, y’know? Not that big a deal.”

“He’s right, Yata-san!” Kamamoto called out, muffled by the door.

 _Ugh._ This was such a stupid situation. Yata stilled his hand, shutting his eyes and letting out his breath as he deflated. “Yeah.” Now that it was out there and he’d heard the others chime in, it really did feel like he was being too conscious of it. “I guess.”

Honestly, it wasn’t like Saruhiko minded, and wasn’t that the most important part of this? Yata opened his eyes and frowned, eyebrows furrowing a little as he turned it over again in his brain. They were a team, right? That – that was the whole point of dating. It didn’t always have to be both of them thinking about this stuff all the time. Sometimes one of them would have to kick something off.

Wasn’t that how it had worked before, too? He’d confessed, and Saruhiko had responded, without any resentment at all. As long as one of them was bringing the important things up, did it really matter who it was?

_… It fucking doesn’t, does it?_

“Well, you got time to think it over, right? What you’re gonna do, I mean.” Chitose leaned back, spreading his hands – the cake nearly sliding off the plate as he did. “Not like your guy expects an instant answer, so there’s no rush to – ”

“Right, thanks.” Yata hastily brushed past him, buoyed up enough by the sudden clarity that his mind was already zooming in on the next objective. “Yo, Eric – got a sec?”

Eric raised his gaze from where he was zipping up his bag at the coat hanger, eyeing him dubiously. “What?”

Behind them, Chitose muttered something about ‘that’s gratitude for ya’; Yata ignored him, focusing on Eric stubbornly. “You said you did it before, right?” He lowered his voice and added, “Y’know… t-taking it.”

“Yeah.” Eric finished with his bag, turning fully and straightening. “So?”

“So…” Yata lowered his voice further, hunching forward a bit instinctively as he did. “How – how was it?”

Eric stared at him without expression for what felt like a long moment, and then slowly raised an eyebrow. “It’s sex. What do you think?”

Yata shot him an irritated look in response. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any idea, smartass!”

That even, unimpressed face didn’t budge. “I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t feel good.”

That was… true. A little rush of something shivery ran through him at that, curbing the earlier annoyance. There was a reason people did this shit, after all. Yata swallowed the feeling back, shifting a bit on his feet and making an effort to curb his anxiety. “Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “It’s not painful or anything, huh?”

“It’s not bad.” Eric shrugged, and then frowned a little. “As long as your partner’s not an asshole.”

_Oh, well, great. Guess I’m fucked._

“Just don’t do anything stupid like forget the lube,” Eric added dryly.

Yata frowned back at him, disgruntled. “I’m not that fucking dumb, okay?”

One of Eric’s slow, rare smiles came out at that. “If you say so.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” The atmosphere was a lot easier to take now; Yata managed a part sheepish, part relieved smile in return. Despite the immediately reaction to that ‘asshole’ bit, this had gone a long way towards settling his nerves about the whole business. Eric had done it and obviously thought it was no big deal, so there was no reason he couldn’t handle it. And besides, he and Saruhiko were a team; they could make this work. “Anyway, thanks. That helps.”

_Nothing wrong with trying it to see how it is, right?_

Behind him, Chitose let out a derisive-sounding noise. “That’s more of a thank you than I got.”

“I totally said ‘thanks’ – what the hell are you talking about ?” Yata turned around and shot his friend a good-natured grin. He felt mentally refreshed after that conversation – relieved of the bulk of his worries and with some of the additional anxieties squashed. It was like a weight dropped off his back. “But still, I owe you guys! Appreciate the help!”

Chitose shrugged, offering a lazy smirk as he opened the door to head back to the front. “Hey, any time you need sex advice, I’m your guy.”

He shook his head, not dropping the grin. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto called out from the front. “Delivery orders just came in!”

“Got it!” Yata turned, meeting Eric’s gaze as he came up from the back. “You guys start making ‘em and I’ll grab my board!”

“Roger!”

“Sure thing.”

Shrugging the mostly-resolved thoughts to the back of his head, Yata turned his attention back to the daily routine. _I’ll send Saruhiko a text later._ Since it was all figured out, there was no point in waiting, after all.

He was actually kinda looking forward to it.

 

* * *

 

 

Considering how the morning had gone, Fushimi had more or less resigned himself to having that lingering doubt and frustration overlaying his thoughts as he worked. He wasn’t frustrated _at_ anyone in particular – definitely not at Misaki, who had been unusually quiet on the trip to their workplaces but who had still kissed him lingeringly and repeatedly before they left the apartment and given him that warm, affectionate smile that continued to light a fire in Fushimi’s chest even after a month of dating. But on careful reflection, he’d found he wasn’t angry with himself, either.

To be honest, he didn’t have any regrets about the conversation. It was strange, given that he’d inadvertently confessed something he hadn’t planned to reveal at all. But then, being in a relationship was strange in general, and he was still making mental adjustments. This was one of those nebulous things: admitting something he wanted from Misaki, and having his desire accepted and considered. Even if he might not get what he wanted in the end (and he was still considering that prospect a likely one), having it out in the open between them was… a relief. It felt as if the air had cleared and he could breathe freely.

_We’re still on good terms, at least._

Because of that, the anxious tension at the back of his head wasn’t exactly directed where he’d thought it would be. He didn’t have much left to dwell on regarding his admission. Misaki knew he wanted to, so there wasn’t anything further for him to do or say until he received a response.

A response he was ready to accept, either way. He didn’t feel particularly uneasy about it, considering his initial plan had been to not even bring it up. There was no loss in any sense, other than to his pride.

Seeing as how the request was already out, _that_ damage was done. He was past the point where he cared. Much.

Unfortunately, there was still one remaining hitch…

“Fushimi-san,” Akiyama’s voice cut into that thought. “I’ve received a response from the minister regarding the Arakida case. The lieutenant mentioned you’d noticed a possible connection to one of yours – I’ll forward you the details now.”

The effectively brought his mind back to the workplace. “Right. Thanks.” Leaving his current report for the moment, he opened his email to bring up the details. “Let me know if he gives you anything else.”

“Of course.”

The tracing on that new piece of information kept him occupied for several hours – by the time he’d pieced things together to his satisfaction, it was well past noon. Fushimi stood slowly, picking up his phone – no new messages, not that he’d expected otherwise – and headed for the break room.

He was only planning to grab the meal replacement drink he’d stowed in the fridge to stave off any bothersome hunger pangs for the afternoon. If he kept working, he could avoid thinking about certain subjects that were weighing too heavily on his mind for his liking.

That plan, unfortunately, ended up being thwarted.

“ – and there wasn’t even a full month’s notice or anything,” Doumyouji was saying as Fushimi opened the door. He was talking animatedly with a thoughtful-looking Akiyama, while Kamo sat at the table eating a boxed lunch, watching them with mild interest. “I mean, the situation’s understandable, but that’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”

“That’s true,” Akiyama conceded.

“Right?” Doumyouji nodded with satisfied confidence and then looked up as Fushimi stepped into the room. His eyes brightened. “Oh! Fushimi-san! Hey, you live alone, right? Any chance you could put up with a roommate for a little while? It’d help a friend of mine out!”

That didn’t even require thought. “Hell no.” _Who in their right mind would agree to that?_

Doumyouji looked a little crestfallen, but recovered quickly. “Worth a try, I guess… Man!” He heaved a sigh, looking glum. “I’m not sure how he’s going to manage – his roommate’s got a girlfriend moving in, so he has to be out by the end of the month. That’s not a lot of time.”

 _Moving in._ The words struck against a chord. Fushimi continued on to the fridge, trying to ignore the conversation.

“Maybe your friend could ask the roommate for more time,” Akiyama suggested, with a note of sympathy in his voice. “I don’t think that would be an unreasonable request, all things considered.”

“Yeah, true… Maybe.” Doumyouji seemed to brighten a little at that. “He’s dating a girl himself, you know, so I thought he could stay with her or something, but apparently it’s too soon for moving in together.”

That was enough to make him pause. Fushimi stopped with his hand on the fridge, weighing his options for a moment. Easiest would be to disregard the whole conversation – it wasn’t as if this unnamed friend had anything to do with him, and the situation was probably nothing like his – but on the other hand, there was potentially an opportunity here.

Sometimes, he still had trouble reminding himself that the people around him were allies. Fushimi shut his eyes, mentally giving himself a push. _One step at a time, right?_ “About moving in,” he started, keeping his voice deliberately low and even. “How soon is ‘too soon’, exactly?”

There was a brief moment of startled silence. Fushimi busied himself with opening the fridge and retrieving his drink, frown deepening. _It’s a simple enough question, right?_ When he straightened and turned, all three of his co-workers were staring at him. _What’s with this reaction?_

Akiyama recovered first, smiling back kindly. “Well, personally I think it would depend on the couple.”

“It’s something you should talk about with your partner,” Kamo added, quietly.

Doumyouji nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, and the friend I mentioned has just been seeing this girl casually, too – that makes it kind of hard, I think.”

“I see.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of most of that already, but it was worth confirming if there might be some arbitrary dating etiquette he didn’t know about. Fushimi turned to leave the room again, vaguely frustrated. “Thanks.”

He could see where Misaki might have thought it was a good idea – they were constantly over at each other’s apartments, to the point where they kept spare clothing and other personal items there. Since they’d started dating, they hadn’t actually spent a night apart. With that in mind, it just made sense to move in. It was a practical solution that would resolve the current awkwardness and the need to make unnecessary bus trips to pick up articles of clothing at frequent intervals. They’d simply go home together, where all of their things were stored.

It had an appeal to it, and he couldn’t deny that part of him liked the idea. A lot. His heart gave a little squeeze when he thought of Misaki smiling at him across the breakfast table – of waking up to Misaki on the futon next to his – of the possibility of unlocking a door and stepping inside, saying “I’m home” and hearing the corresponding “welcome back”.

It was definitely a tempting prospect.

But at the same time… Well, he had a number of other, less pleasant reactions.

Sooner or later, this rush of endorphins and hormones and infatuation was going to settle. He’d looked into it once when he was feeling particularly overwhelmed, and it sounded as though that intensity would ease off with time and familiarity. He wasn’t sure what it would mean for them in general, but Fushimi had been living on his own for more than five years. He liked being by himself. It was easier to think – easier to breathe. The notion of giving that up – of having someone always _there_ , always sharing the same living space as him – had his hackles raising in instinctive protest, even if he currently wanted to spend every spare moment with Misaki. Eventually, it was going to become a problem. He couldn’t let his clouded mind lead him into hasty decisions.

That would have been enough to make him hesitate, but beyond that…

Beyond even that much…

He had shared a home once. Only once, though for the larger portion of his life.

At the back of his head, despite all of the appealing things he’d experienced to this point while sharing space with Misaki, some small, irrational voice cried out in strident protest to the notion of _living with someone else_. It was an instinct he couldn’t quite silence.

That faint edge of fear was irritating, but he couldn’t seem to shake it entirely all the same.

“Fushimi-san?” When he turned his head, Akiyama was giving him a questioning look. “If you’ve got something on your mind, there’s no harm in bringing it up.” That kind smile spread on his face again. “We’ll hear you out.”

“That seems to be the theme in this break room most days,” Kamo added, with a small smile of his own.

That was true – everyone seemed to enjoy gossiping like teenagers whenever there were two or more of them in the break room. For that reason, Fushimi tended to take his breaks at irregular times or just worked through them altogether. Lately, though, he’d been in there more frequently. Since the incident with Jungle, it had… somehow not felt as irritating to listen to his co-workers chat carelessly around him. He’d been that close to never seeing them again.

On a few occasions, he’d been engaged himself, and while that was normally a pain, sometimes he didn’t mind it much.

If he was being honest, he didn’t exactly dislike his co-workers, after all.

Because of that, he hesitated for a moment, considering both the immediate urge to brush them off and continue to keep his problems to himself and the tiny thread of gratification that spun to life in response to the sincere interest.

_This kind of stuff really is a pain to sort out._

That small moment was enough – Doumyouji abruptly snapped his fingers, smile widening with good-natured realization. “Aha, I got it! Yata asked you to move in, didn’t he, Fushimi-san?”

Fushimi’s skin prickled instinctively in reaction; he just stared for a moment, nonplussed.

Both Akiyama and Kamo were shooting expressions of apprehension and slight alarm at Doumyouji, who seemed oblivious to the tension caused by his confident assertion. “Ah,” Akiyama started, grimacing slightly as he glanced sideways at Fushimi. “That… might be a bit of a leap…”

Based on the reactions, it seemed like everyone had guessed it and only one had been impolite enough to blurt it out. Fushimi clicked his tongue. _Well, it’s not like I should have to hide it._ He hadn’t exactly taken great pains to cover anything up when he’d asked his question initially. “It’s fine.” After a moment of wrestling with himself mentally, he mumbled, “You’re not wrong.”

“There, see?” Doumyouji shot a satisfied grin at Akiyama. “I thought so!” He turned his bright gaze on Fushimi again. “Anyway, you two have only been together a month, right? Isn’t it normal to wonder if that’s too soon?”

 _Is it?_ That wasn’t exactly the concern, anyway. “I guess.”

“It really does depend on the feelings of the couple, though,” Kamo noted, straightening in his seat a bit. “Though, in my case, I waited until marriage to move in with her.”

Doumyouji hummed at that, and shot him a sympathetic look. “I guess that waiting doesn’t really help then, does it?” he noted, without any kind of attempt to skirt the subject. “Are you guys back on proper speaking terms yet?”

Kamo’s face noticeably fell. “Well… that’s…”

Akiyama cleared his throat. “Anyway, Fushimi-san,” he cut in with quiet delicacy. “I think the point is that you should consider your own feelings on the matter. The experiences of other people are going to vary too much, either way.”

 _I can already tell that without you saying so._ It wasn’t like considering his own feelings was going to help him sort out what he wanted in the first place. Fushimi had already long-since recognized that he could be an unreliable source when it came to the subject of his own happiness. “I know. I’m thinking about it.”

“It’s probably fine, in that case.” Kamo shrugged.

Akiyama looked thoughtful. “You could also try talking with Yata about it if you’re having trouble making up your mind,” he suggested.

Somehow, that suggestion caught him off guard; Fushimi frowned in response. _Talk with him?_ When Misaki was the one who’d thrown it out there so enthusiastically? Would he really be able to talk about Fushimi’s hesitance without bias?

As if noting his hesitance, Akiyama smiled faintly. “Even if he raised the subject, he probably doesn’t want you to worry about it by yourself.”

“Yeah!” Doumyouji was nodding along earnestly. “Besides, Yata’s a good guy! I’m sure he’d understand if you explain it to him properly!”

 _Explain it to him, huh?_ Those words struck a chord again. If he closed his eyes, Fushimi was sure he’d have a clear picture of Misaki from that morning in his mind, with the tiny edge of desperation in his expression that spoke of past trauma.

_“You gotta tell me if something’s bugging you.”_

_I know that. I… know._ It didn’t make things any easier.

But then, he’d explained himself to Misaki once already that day, and it had ended well, so why should he expect this to be any different? It had already been proven that they could talk about these kinds of difficult subjects without breaking apart. And besides, if he could suggest something and Misaki could say “I’ll think about it”, he surely had to expect the reverse to be fine.

Still, the idea of baring some of the ugly thoughts and feelings that crossed his mind was intimidating. Would Misaki take it as a rejection? There was a possibility he’d be hurt that Fushimi wasn’t entirely ready to commit himself to that kind of thing.

 _Would he really understand it?_ Honestly, Fushimi didn’t totally understand it himself. It seemed an impossible task to explain these indecipherable feelings to someone else.

Things were still new between them: new and fragile and uncertain. There was no way to predict anything.

“Well,” Akiyama said quietly, cutting into his thoughts yet again. His gaze was gentle when Fushimi looked up. “I think it’s also fine to take some time to sort out your thoughts and feelings before you talk with him.”

It was kind of irritating how transparent he was apparently being. Fushimi felt an uncomfortable warmth rising on his face, and clicked his tongue, turning away. “I’d do that without you telling me,” he mumbled, moving towards the door again. Still, before he went through it, he added a quick, “Anyway, thanks.”

“Any time, Fushimi-san!” Doumyouji called after him enthusiastically, as he pulled the door closed behind him.

 _What a pain._ Still, there was a faint sense of satisfaction building in his chest. When it came down to it, he did feel slightly better having talked about even just that much. It was strange.

_Well, whatever._

As he was making his way back to his seat, his phone buzzed. ‘New text message from Yata Misaki’ was displayed on the screen when he brought it up to look at it.

For the second time, Fushimi felt his skin prickle. He wasn’t sure if it was more dread or anticipation, but either way he increased his pace, waiting until he was seated at his desk again and had set down the drink before he swiped open his phone to look at the new message. By that point, he had two waiting.

‘hey so I wanna do the thing’

‘your place tonight?’

For what felt like a long moment, Fushimi could only stare at his phone, too stunned to even think straight. It felt like the world around him dropped out, leaving him in a void with just his phone in front of him displaying an impossible message. As he sat there, silent and still, the screen suddenly updated with a third text.

‘i mean you got a bed so it makes sense’

Somehow, that was enough to bring him to his senses. Fushimi blinked, and then frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he considered the message. Part of him wanted to be excited – there was a warm, pleasant rush of feeling that came with the knowledge that _Misaki had accepted him, Misaki wanted him_ – but he couldn’t help the wariness that came along with it.

_Isn’t this just a little too good to be true?_

Thinking about it for a few seconds, Fushimi typed back, ‘Are you sure about this?’

Misaki’s response was almost instant: ‘yeah of course!’

Somehow the immediate confirmation threw him off. Fushimi clicked his tongue, vaguely annoyed without knowing why. ‘If you’re pitying me, I don’t want it,’ he typed back.

There was a short hesitation there. But when Misaki started to type, his responses came in rapid succession – as if he had to send each thought right away without waiting to type the others that followed first.

‘wtf???’

‘my ass isn’t a fucking charity ok’

‘if i pitied you i’d get you a goddamn card’

‘not screw you’

‘i thought about it i wanna do it’

‘get it through your head dumbass!!!’

It felt like each message struck an individual blow at the guarded caution that had formed a hasty barrier over Fushimi’s thoughts. By the end of the string, the warmth of those initial pleasant feelings seemed to settle over him; he couldn’t help but let out a soft huff of breath, relieved and wondering all at once.

_He really wants to do it with me…_

It was the unbelievable outcome he hadn’t expected. Fushimi’s fingers trembled a little over the screen of his phone, vaguely overwhelmed with the confusing emotions and the rapidly rising anticipation that came along with it.

_He wants… to do it…_

Somehow outside of the rushing in his ears, Fushimi managed to pull together enough presence of mind to type back, ‘You don’t need to say that much. I get it.’

There was a second or two of hesitation, and then he got back, ‘yeah well sometimes i gotta drill things into your stubborn skull’.

That blunt response had a little smile tipping up at the corners of his mouth. Fushimi felt his thoughts begin to clear. ‘Look who’s talking about being stubborn…’

‘hey i’m not the idiot in this case you gotta admit’

He really couldn’t deny that. Fushimi clicked his tongue, more out of habit than with any real feeling behind it. ‘Anyway, my place is fine for tonight. I’ll try to be done by seven or so.’

‘sounds good!’ he got back, and then, ‘i’ll be here’.

‘See you then,’ he responded, and set his phone down for a moment, absorbing the conversation.

Misaki wanted to do it with him.

It really needed to sink in properly. He’d specifically stated that he wanted to fuck Misaki, and Misaki had said he wanted it. Fushimi shut his eyes, giving himself a moment to process the confirmation of something he’d thought would be impossible. Misaki wanted him. Maybe that should’ve been clear with the intensity of their current activities, but the fact was still a mixture of unbelievable and incredibly gratifying to him right then.

They were really going to have sex, after all.

Through the pleasant haze of his emotions, one thought came through with clarity: _I’ll need to do some more research._

That was true – what he’d looked into so far on the subject wasn’t much more than an introduction. Fushimi opened his eyes again, frowning at his monitor thoughtfully. Neither he nor Misaki had any practical experience, so the next best thing would be to take in as much information on the subject as he possibly could. There’d be more chance for a success with at least one of them knowing what they should be doing.

And then there was the fact that he was going to need things like lube and condoms…

_Maybe I will take a proper break, after all._

Pushing his chair from his desk and retrieving his drink and phone, Fushimi stood again, this time heading for the exit from the office out into the café. If he remembered correctly – and he almost always did – there should be a pharmacy only a few blocks away.

He could do some more research on the way there.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a nervous tension building in the pit of Yata’s stomach, starting when he’d received the text from Saruhiko to say he was on the way – hell, from before that even; he wasn’t sure exactly when it had started. But it was getting steadily worse, even as he felt the now-familiar flutter of his heart when Saruhiko stepped into Homra and their eyes met. It wasn’t like he was faking his smiles or enthusiasm. He _was_ excited. This was a big fucking deal, after all.

Plus, seeing Saruhiko in general still kinda did that to him. They saw each other every day, but…

_Whatever, it’s normal when you’re going out, right?_

Still, he’d never been quite this hyper-aware before. It wasn’t exactly bad, but it was kinda nerve-wracking. The bus hadn’t been crowded so they’d sat next to each other, each taking one of the earphones Saruhiko had bought a week or so ago and listening to the playlist Yata had put together on his phone with some of their mutual favorites. Their fingers had brushed on the seat twice before Yata couldn’t take it anymore and moved to twine them together. He was sure he’d been about five shades of red when Saruhiko shot him that endearingly startled look, but it was worth it for the tiny, bemused smile and the tentative pressure of fingers closing against his.

Fuck, if they hadn’t been in public, he’d have gone for the kiss too. He was way too keyed up.

_Was the bus ride always this long, or what?_

They broke apart mutually when leaving the bus but kept the hands closest to each other free while walking the short half-block to Saruhiko’s apartment complex. Yata had a grocery bag in his other hand – pretty much required, considering the sad state of the food situation there, which amounted to basically meal replacement shakes, energy drinks, and protein bars, with the occasional bottle of artificially flavored juice to spice things up. On the few occasions they spent the night here instead of at his place, he made it a point to provide ingredients for a home-cooked meal or two.

Honestly, Saruhiko’s apartment was a little on the depressing side in general. It felt so empty. Neither of them had much stuff, but somehow Yata’s apartment managed to feel like something of a home, while Saruhiko’s was just… a place to keep things. And sleep.

It was hard to explain, but it gave Yata that burning feeling in his chest – like he really needed to take action and just… _fix_ this. Or something. That was kinda the reason he’d thought about bringing up the whole ‘moving in together’ thing.

_We never actually talked about that, huh?_

Well, it wasn’t like it couldn’t wait. They had other shit to deal with right then, anyway.

“Here.” Saruhiko shifted his own bag – the one Yata hadn’t asked about, since he already had a sneaking suspicion what kinda stuff was in it – to unlock the door to his apartment, and then pulled it open so they could pass through. “Welcome. I guess.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that. Not like they really needed much ceremony these days. “Right, thanks.”

They shuffled around each other in the familiar motions: removing their shoes – well, boots in Saruhiko’s case – and setting aside the stuff they were carrying. Yata had only brought food with him; he still had a couple pairs of underwear and some shirts here, along with a spare toothbrush – anything else probably didn’t matter much. He put the eggs, butter, milk and pineapple in the fridge and then frowned at it for a second, at a loss.

The air felt charged, but he wasn’t sure how to direct that energy. His skin was still prickled up, and he had a nervous lump at the pit of his stomach, but mostly, he felt that aimless drive to _do_ something. Anything.

Well, okay, not just anything. He wanted to kiss Saruhiko. His heart was pounding, his lips tingled with imagined sensation, and his fingers felt strangely itchy. He wanted to run them along Saruhiko’s hips and back – clench them in his hair – cup them against his face. There was the beginning of an ache stirring to life in his lower body; the combination of the day’s anticipation and the knowledge that they were alone mixed up into a tense, half-formed arousal.

It was like his body was already there. _Go on,_ it seemed to urge him. _What are you waiting for? Let’s do this!_

Fuck, if all they were doing was the usual, he’d have been all over it already – it was only this new stuff that was making things weird. Yata forced himself to turn, taking in Saruhiko’s profile. From his hunched shoulders to the tiny frown on his lips as he stared with dull eyes at his own apartment, it was clear that he was also feeling the strained mood. The little bag he’d brought still dangled from his long fingers.

_Both of us are like this, huh? How lame._

Well, it was probably up to him to make the first move considering who he was dealing with. Yata thought back to that stupid text message about pity and couldn’t help the rueful grin that spread on his face. _Seriously, you dumbass._ Drawing in a breath, he moved to cross the short space between them. “Saruhiko.”

His boyfriend’s head turned immediately, but Yata didn’t give him time to get his bearings, reaching out to grasp the front of his work vest and tug him forward. “Misaki…?” Saruhiko murmured with a note of mild surprise, just seconds before Yata leaned up and caught his lips.

It might have been a bit too forceful; he was still kinda nervous, honestly. But after that moment of hesitation, Saruhiko relaxed, melting into the kiss. His free hand crept up around Yata’s shoulder to pull him in closer, and Yata obliged him, his own hands reaching for Saruhiko’s hips to draw their bodies into contact. The familiar blend of touch and warmth and _Saruhiko’s scent_ assaulted his senses, sending his heart into a frenzy.

He broke apart just long enough to murmur, “Let’s do this,” into his boyfriend’s mouth, and felt the familiar shivery ache stir to life in his lower body at the low hum that seemed to vibrate against his lips in response. The slick heat of Saruhiko’s tongue teased his bottom lip, and he opened up without hesitation to engage it, fingers clenching automatically against the fabric beneath them as his body recognized and responded to the signals that there was pleasure coming soon.

The hand braced on his back slid up to the back of his neck, prompting a shiver at the touch of skin on skin before there were fingers in his hair, gently tipping his head back as their kiss deepened, supporting and holding him in place.

The slide of lips and tongue was starting to cloud his thoughts. Yata felt his cock stir in his pants and impulsively slid his hands down along the firm plane of Saruhiko’s ass, hips moving in an instinctive thrust forward. He groaned a little at the distinct press of a half-formed erection against his own, the little twinge of sensation at the contact fueling the lustful haze fogging his brain.

_Yeah… yeah, like that… more of that…_

Saruhiko ground back against him once, slow and hard, drawing another pleased noise out of Yata’s throat, before stilling. He disengaged from the kiss, firmly leaning his head down to press their foreheads together and forestalling any instinctive effort to chase after his lips. “Misaki,” he breathed out, low and affected, and when Yata opened his eyes, he was treated to the sight of his boyfriend’s intense gaze from close range, long lashes creating a frame and pupils blown wide. He was flushed and breathing erratically.

Yata’s heart felt like it had leapt up into his throat. _Fuck._ He swallowed, feeling his dick give another little pleasant tug at the sight.

Couldn’t help it. Saruhiko did this to him every time. He could barely control himself.

Hell, half the time he didn’t bother trying.

Still, he wasn’t gonna give in to temptation when he’d made up his mind. Yata sucked in a breath, drawing up his determination. After all that hassle, they were definitely fucking doing this!

He took a small step backwards, dislodging the hand in his hair and sliding his own hands free so that he could reach up to grasp it firmly. “C’mon,” he urged, the corners of his mouth quirking up almost anxiously. His voice came out sounding odd – hoarse and lower than usual – but he ignored it, stepping back once more in the general direction of Saruhiko’s bed. As he tugged on that slender hand, his boyfriend followed obligingly, his gaze never once leaving Yata’s face.

It wasn’t helping his nerves any, but it was sure doing wonders for the erection pressing up against the zipper of his shorts. Yata resisted the urge to reach down and adjust himself, enjoying the pleasant ache of arousal.

Fuck, if it was them doing this, he was sure it was gonna feel good. No matter what.

The mood was jarred when his leg bumped up against the mattress. _Right, the bed…_ Yata faltered for a second, caught without a plan for the next step. _Shit. Now what?_

Saruhiko picked up his slack this time, stepping in to close the distance between them and tossing his little bag onto the bed. “We don’t have to do it tonight, you know,” he mumbled, fingers curling around Yata’s.

_Really? This again?_ Yata shook his head. “Shut up with that already, dumbass – I told you I wanna do it.” He turned a brash grin up at Saruhiko’s face, mingled excitement and nerves churning around behind it. “So let’s fucking _do it_ already!”

Saruhiko’s fingers tightened against his almost painfully. It was kinda satisfying. Those long lashes lowered slowly, and the corners of those thin lips quirked a little. “So romantic.”

Yata huffed a little at that, vaguely annoyed. “Yeah, well, you’re the one stopping to ask if I’m sure – I fucking told you already!” He wriggled his fingers until they properly linked with Saruhiko’s and reached up to brush his boyfriend’s face with his free hand. “I’ll tell you if I wanna stop, okay? Trust me!”

Saruhiko’s eyes fluttered open as Yata’s hand passed along his cheek, thumb dragging over the firm line at the top. His skin was so soft… “I want to,” he admitted, voice low, and the muscles in his throat moved noticeably as he swallowed. “Just remember you were the one who said it,” he added in a more normal tone and dipped his head for another kiss.

Yata met him halfway, surging up into it with enthusiasm. He was antsy and keyed up, eager to touch and be touched. Usually by this point they were already halfway to orgasm; the tension in his lower belly and between his legs seemed to be asking what the hell the holdup was. The re-introduction of Saruhiko’s hot, clever mouth against his own sent a spike of pleasant anticipation surging through his body, making him shudder.

It was crazy how easy it was to get worked up when Saruhiko was involved. Almost scary in a way. Even when he was a teenager, he didn’t remember being this goddamn horny all the time.

_Whatever._ It wasn’t like Saruhiko wasn’t just as into it, lips and tongue moving hungrily against Yata’s, with the obvious jut of his erection between their bodies. _Who fucking cares?_

They broke apart seconds later – mutually but with reluctance, the shared awareness of what needed to happen next spreading as thickly between them as their mingled breathing.

_Right. That._

After a lengthy moment of silence, Yata ventured with, “Guess we should, y’know, take off our clothes. Right?”

“Mm.” Saruhiko’s eyes opened partway, regarding him heatedly. One thin eyebrow arched. “You guess?”

“Yeah, yeah – shut up.” Fuck, this still felt awkward. Yata eased back, feeling the cold rush in to greet him with the warmth of Saruhiko’s body gone, and offered a grin that was partly fond and partly spawned from bravado to cover the anxious lump in his stomach. “You know what I mean.”

“I pieced it together somehow,” Saruhiko murmured back. His lips quirked, but he didn’t quite smile, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he took a half step back out of Yata’s personal space, reaching up to begin undoing the buttons on his vest.

Yata swallowed without thinking, his eyes momentarily caught on the motions of those deft, slender fingers before he snapped himself out of it and reached for the hem of his own shirt to lift it over his head.

They’d seen each other shirtless before. Sorta. When they fucked – assuming handjobs and grinding counted as ‘fucking’ – it had always been in a hurry, not bothering to remove shirts or even fully kick off their pants half the time. He’d seen Saruhiko’s bare chest and back when cleaning up or changing, but they’d never _kissed_ like that, much less… anything else.

His boyfriend’s dick had been in his hand and he’d had Saruhiko’s come on his chest, but they’d never fucking kissed without shirts on. What the actual fuck?

_Doesn’t matter._ Yata pushed that thought aside as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside carelessly, the tank top beneath it meeting the same fate shortly after. He resisted the urge to check on Saruhiko, unbuttoning the fly on his shorts and easing the zipper down over the hard lump in his underwear before dropping them over his hips and past his knees, stepping out and kicking them aside.

He had another moment of paralyzing doubt at that point, standing there in just his socks and underwear, and risked a glance to check where Saruhiko was at.

The final button of his boyfriend’s work shirt was just being undone in that moment; as Yata watched, Saruhiko shrugged his arms out of the sleeves one by one. His already pale skin looked even paler in the apartment’s shitty lighting, the sleek lines of wiry muscle standing out as shadows dipped into the contours of his body.

That sight made Yata’s fingers itch; he swallowed, curling them at his sides.

_He’s so…_

“Are you waiting for me to give you a show?” Saruhiko’s soft drawl had him jerking his gaze back up – he got two raised eyebrows that time. “You’re staring.”

Yata felt his face start to burn. “Wh-what the hell? That’s normal, you jerk! You’re my – my boyfriend, goddamn it, and you’re getting n-naked! Of course I’m gonna stare!”

“I guess.” There was still a hint of that drawl in the tone; Saruhiko’s head dipped, eyes lowering slowly and deliberately. “Well, it’s the same for me.”

Something like a hot shiver run up his back as he felt that heated gaze. It was strangely energizing. Yata felt the corners of his mouth edge up, eyelids lowering halfway as their eyes met again. “You’ve still got pants on, c’mon.”

The smallest hint of a smile spread on Saruhiko’s lips in response. “You’re not exactly naked yet, either.”

Yata shot him a mildly exasperated look. “I’m not standing around with my dick out waiting for you to take your goddamn pants off, okay? Just do it.”

“Ah.” Saruhiko’s lashes lowered over his eyes, smile tipping up a bit more. He reached down and undid the fly of his pants, before grabbing hold of both them and the waistband of his underwear and pulling both carefully down over the hard bulge at his crotch, baring it in one motion.

Yata stared, momentarily struck speechless.

“So?” Saruhiko’s voice had lowered to a murmur, as if less certain than before. “Satisfied?”

Regaining the use of his motor skills, Yata reached down immediately to hastily rid himself of his underwear. He caught the bead of moisture that had been pooling at the tip of his cock with his thumb as he did and had to bite back a gasp at the rush of sensation. _Fuck_.

“Misaki…” If anything, Saruhiko’s voice was more unsteady than it had been; Yata kicked his underwear and socks the rest of the way off and then straightened, reaching out for his boyfriend without thinking and getting a rush of gratification as they came together with mutual desperation.

It was a different experience, kissing without clothing on. Despite all the things they’d done to that point, the warm, smooth contours of Saruhiko’s body and the feel of hands against his own skin had heat climbing up along Yata’s neck in a blend of embarrassment and desire. It was intimate – even vulnerable. As they drew together and their dicks brushed, hot and hard and without any kind of barrier, his skin prickled up and he couldn’t help but groan. Saruhiko shuddered in response, and Yata swallowed his little answering whimper, the vibration and timbre of it setting off sparks all through his body.

He was fully hard by then and the feel of Saruhiko’s mouth opening against his, hot and demanding, felt like it was setting him on fire. Yata was about ready to explode, rational thought fading off into a foggy haze as he processed the warm press of a body against his – the firm lines of Saruhiko’s back and hips under his hands – the slide of clever fingers against his sides, tracing his ribcage. He wanted to touch every inch of skin he could find. More than that, he wanted to grind against Saruhiko until he came. His hips rocked forward unconsciously, fingers pressing into the jut of hipbone as sensation shivered through him.

_So fucking good…_

Saruhiko broke the kiss after another clumsy attempt on Yata’s end to grind up against him. “Misaki,” he mumbled again, voice low and tense, “lie down.”

It took a second to process that through the lusty fog that had settled on his brain. Right – there was a goal here, other than just orgasm. “… Got it.” Yata let out a shaky breath, trying to cool his head as he eased back out of Saruhiko’s hold again and dropped heavily onto the bed, shifting up and over to make room.

The bag that Saruhiko had brought along was still lying there, and Yata finally got a look at the contents: a thin bottle of… something, he couldn’t see, and a box of condoms.

_Right, so pretty much what I figured, huh?_

Saruhiko climbed onto the bed after him before he could think too much, and Yata bent his knees and scooted again to make room, feeling a bit weird about it as he propped himself up on his elbows and stared back up. He didn’t really mind the position, but lying on the bed naked – with his equally naked boyfriend above him – kinda made things strike home a little more.

They were really fucking doing this. Okay… _Okay._

Trying to distract himself from the weird mix of lust and anxiety swirling around at the pit of his stomach, Yata turned his attention back to Saruhiko instead. His boyfriend knelt by his feet, his knees casually spread and… well… _everything_ on display. He was really gorgeous, slim and fit like a model, the graceful lines of his body accented by the dark hair that hung softly over his face and the matching patch around the prominent erection standing between his legs. The sight of him made Yata’s throat feel like it was closing up; his own cock gave a little twitch of interest, a tiny bit of warm moisture leaking from the tip.

Saruhiko seemed to notice that he was being watched; he raised his gaze as soon as he’d adjusted his glasses, and their eyes met. If anything, the blend of nerves and excitement in Yata’s belly increased, and a small, anxious grin tugged upward on his lips. He couldn’t help it. _Fuck._

There was a moment of hesitation – a little hint of something wary in Saruhiko’s eyes. He opened his mouth as if to voice it, paused, and then shut it again, closing his eyes momentarily and pulling in a long breath. When he opened them again, he smiled back, soft and faint and rueful, and then bent forward to brace his hands on either side of Yata’s shoulders.

Somehow, it was kinda obvious what he’d been about to say – or rather, to ask. Yata let his knees tip out to either side, instinctively accommodating, and reached up to cup the side of Saruhiko’s face. The skin felt soft and warm under his fingers; as he stroked his thumb along the line of his boyfriend’s cheekbone, Saruhiko let his eyelids droop and fixed Yata with a heated look through his lashes.

_Shit._ “You’re fucking hot,” he mumbled without thinking, and then immediately stiffened, caught up in fierce embarrassment at having actually said the words out loud. “I-I mean…”

Saruhiko blinked at him, looking endearingly startled for a second. A little hint of something like confusion or bewilderment settled in his eyes. “You’re biased,” he mumbled back, lips turning down into a little frown as he turned his gaze aside.

Yata felt the warmth under his fingers before he noticed the red on Saruhiko’s cheeks. _Seriously?_ “What, no one’s ever said it before?” He grinned back lazily when that cool gaze shifted back to meet his again, raising his other hand and using both to carefully unhook the frames of Saruhiko’s glasses from around his ears so he could slide them off and set them to the side. It earned him several rapid-fire blinks but no sign of a protest. “S’true.” Somehow, the reaction emboldened him; he felt confident enough to add, “When I first saw you, I kinda thought you looked like a model or something. All… y’know, beautiful like that.” Despite everything, saying it out loud still made him blush. “Too bad your attitude totally wrecks the image,” he tossed out hastily.

Strangely, the last bit seemed to soften the guarded look in Saruhiko’s eyes; the change was easier to see without the shield of his glasses. He let out a small, amused huff and offered a tiny smirk in response. “Look who’s talking,” he murmured, and added frankly, “The beautiful one is you.”

“Eh?” He hadn’t expected that. Yata blinked, feeling his skin prickle up. “Wait – what? _Me?_ ”

Not even once did he ever remember anyone using the word ‘beautiful’ to describe him. Hell, the most he’d ever gotten was a female customer he couldn’t even look in the eye who’d giggled something like ‘cute’ as she took her cup from him. He doubted she’d meant that in an ‘I want to date you way’, either. The idea of someone actually thinking he was _fucking beautiful_ was beyond his comprehension.

_No way…_

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” he drawled back, and the corners of his mouth edged up a little further, eyes going lidded again. It was a different sight somehow without the glasses, but no less sexy. “No one’s ever said it before?” The repeat of his own words hadn’t quite sunk into Yata’s brain when Saruhiko slid his hands up on the mattress, bracing himself on his elbows instead so that their faces were bare inches apart.  “You’re really something,” he mumbled, almost as if to himself. “How vibrant you are – it’s like I can’t look away from you sometimes. Everything about you…” There was a pause, as if he struggled for words; his voice was even lower when he spoke again. “… I can’t ever get enough.”

It was like those words were fire coursing through his veins. Yata reached up again with both hands, sliding them into Saruhiko’s hair. “Me too,” he responded, voice rough, and tugged insistently, raising his head at the same moment to bring their mouths together.

The kiss was fierce, a little desperate and clumsy but forceful enough to be satisfying. Yata allowed himself to get carried away in the feeling, fingers clenching in the soft strands of dark hair as his head was pressed into the mattress roughly, lips and tongues mingling in a kind of frenzied heat.

The rush was starting to get to him again when Saruhiko pulled back, separating their mouths with obvious reluctance. His breathing was ragged, causing their chests to brush in uneven rhythm as they fought to collect themselves.

Something about those simple motions sent a shiver through Yata’s body. He eased his grip, allowing his boyfriend to pull away and shift back to sit up on his knees again, and then let out a long breath, recovering himself again. His lower abdomen was tense from the ache in his crotch with all the teasing. “Fuck,” he expelled with feeling.

Saruhiko retrieved the bottle from his discarded bag, turning in time to raise an eyebrow. “That’s the idea.” He looked about as ready as Yata felt – face flushed, lips swollen, eyes dark with desire. It was a heady sight; another little spike of pleasure jarred up from Yata’s dick as he took it in. He had to bite his lip, clenching his fingers in the sheets against the urge to reach down and stroke himself to a hasty climax.

Seriously, he’d never been so turned on in his life. “Just… get on with it, huh?”

He’d half expected a snarky comeback, but Saruhiko just murmured, “Yeah,” opening the bottle with what looked like unsteady fingers and pouring out a generous portion of lube onto his right hand. He closed his fingers around it, setting the bottle aside to coat them thoroughly, and then leaned forward. “Lift your hips a bit.”

Yata shifted obligingly, the little edge of anxiety drowned out by the more overpowering wave of lust. He didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed about how exposed he was. “Good?”

“Yeah.” Saruhiko leaned forward, bracing his left hand beside Yata’s hip and reaching down to brush his coated fingers against the base of Yata’s ass.

It was jarring to feel someone prodding around there; Yata tensed momentarily and had to force himself to relax. He remembered how Saruhiko had seemed on the verge of asking something – _“Are you sure?”_ – and openly held himself back. _Because he trusts me, like I asked him to._

Given that, it was only fair that he should return that trust.

Saruhiko glanced up, meeting Yata’s gaze. “Ready?”

He managed to summon up a tense grin in response, pushing down his own nervousness. “Hell yeah!”

A very small and noticeably hesitant smile answered him. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, okay?”

“Got it.” Yata resisted the urge to snark back, impatience and anxiety churning against the pleasant arousal from earlier. _Just fucking do it already!_

Saruhiko held his gaze for a second or two longer, as if waiting to see if he’d change his mind, and then turned his eyes down. There was a look of concentration on his face that Yata might’ve thought was a bit funny and cute if he wasn’t distracted by the feel of a slender, slicked finger pushing past the ring of muscle to gain entry to his body.

It was… kinda weird, but honestly not bad. Not exactly _sexy_ or anything, but combined with his erection, it sorta had an erotic feel to it. _Intimate_ , more like.

Also a little embarrassing.

He was still processing that when the finger wriggled a little and then slid back. And then there was no time to really process _that_ move, because Saruhiko was already lining back up again with two fingers.

_Okay._ It was cool – he had this. Just a little on the nervous side… It helped that Saruhiko was going pretty slow, pausing at every stage so far to make sure there were no protests before going forward. His pace was cautious – Yata might’ve said it was _too_ cautious, except that he kinda appreciated it when it involved stuff poking around up his ass.

Not that he didn’t want to do it – it was just that having some time to adjust was cool. That was it.

Saruhiko’s fingers pushed in past the resistance, and – okay – yeah, that stung a little, but it wasn’t bad. Yata resisted the urge to squirm, knowing it would be taken as a sign of discomfort. He didn’t really want to slow things down any more. Plus, the initial sting was already fading – it was more of a stretch than anything.

“Okay?” Saruhiko asked him, blue eyes sharp. His fingers scissored just a tiny bit, experimentally, and then curled inward.

_The hell is he doing?_ Yata felt his eyebrows furrow as his boyfriend’s fingers probed inside him, gently but firmly curving up towards his balls. “Yeah, but what’re you doing? Don’t just play around in there!”

“I wanted to see if I could reach it,” Saruhiko mumbled in response.

“Huh?” Yata stared at him, more confused than before. “Reach wh – ?”

The rest of that question cut off in a startled and very audible intake of breath as one of the fingers inside him touched against a spot that sent a wave of sensation through his body. Yata pressed his head back hard against the pillow, shuddering all over in immediate response. “Hu… wha… ?”

Saruhiko was staring at him intently, face flushed and lips parted. “That’s it, huh?” he muttered, and his lids lowered into one of those smoldering gazes.

That was all the warning he got. “What the hell are you – ?” Once again, he was cut off, this time by the air leaving his body in a rush, an audible ‘nngh’ escaping through his clenched teeth as pleasure surged up through him, shutting off his thoughts and sending hot shivers along his skin.

It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. Or, well, it was – it was pleasure, the same kind that would carry him to orgasm – but it was at least ten times as strong as when he jerked himself off. Almost too strong; it verged right on the edge of discomfort, not quite crossing the line but teetering dangerously over it.

In other words, _really fucking good_. Amazing, even. He couldn’t believe it.

_No wonder Eric said all that stuff…_

“Does it feel good?” Saruhiko asked him, outside the rush. His voice was low – tense. When Yata turned a blurry gaze up at him, breathing heavily, the blue eyes that returned his stare were even more intent, and dark with want. “Misaki?”

_Fuck, don’t say my name in that tone right now…_ Yata clenched his fingers in the bedcover, fighting for control. “Yeah,” he managed to grit out, beyond caring about the throaty note in his own voice. He really, badly wanted to reach down and jerk himself to a quick orgasm; the combination of Saruhiko’s lewd expression and the sensations in his body were just about driving him insane. “It’s… it’s so good…” He’d never felt this much of a drive for release; hadn’t even known this kind of sexual desperation was possible.

Hell, they weren’t even actually _fucking_ yet!

If anything, Saruhiko’s eyes seemed to darken further. He took in a sharp intake of breath, shutting his eyes briefly, and curled his fingers again, this time wiggling them a bit over that sensitive place.

The resulting rush of stimulation nearly pushed him over the edge right then; Yata’s body jerked, limbs trembling and tense as he panted, a low half-whining moan torn from his throat. There was warm pre-cum leaking from the tip of his dick and he felt hyper-sensitive, little pin-pricks of pleasure seeming to zip through his veins.

_I can’t… Fuck…_

A low, probably unconscious noise came from his boyfriend, breathy and desperate, and there it was: the breaking point.

“Saruhiko…” That came out as a kind of desperate growl; unable to hold back, Yata reached out with both hands and grasped his boyfriend’s shoulders harshly, pulling him down. The fingers inside him jerked, hitting that spot again, and his grip tightened, a stuttering moan ripping from his throat as pleasure flooded his system. “Sa… Saruhiko…”

“Misaki…” The note of wondering desperation in the low voice that answered him was only feeding into the rush. Saruhiko deliberately pressed his fingers forward again, this time pausing only briefly before repeating the motion, sending jolts of shuddering sensation all the way through Yata’s body with each tiny movement. He moaned without restrain as the pace increased, settling into a kind of erratic rhythm, toes curling and back arching from the bed as his vision blurred out and his mind went blank.

At some point, he’d started pushing back, shifting shamelessly against Saruhiko’s fingers in searching of more stimulation. His fingers were clamped like vises on Saruhiko’s shoulders – it must’ve fucking hurt, but the expression on his boyfriend’s face was still flushed and aroused, gorgeously flustered, as if he didn’t even register the pressure. His fingers were working their way to a frantic pace; at this point, they’d obviously both forgotten the original goal.

Even as that stuff registered in some vague corner of his brain, Yata couldn’t bring himself to care. A familiar, tantalizing tension was building rapidly in his lower body, and all of his senses were focused on that urgent need. He couldn’t even fucking breathe; he wanted to come… fast, hard, _now_ …

When orgasm pulsed through him, it was in waves – one sweeping rush of sensation after another, leaving his body stiff and trembling in the wake. Yata cried out, hot pleasure spiking through his dick and balls as he came, spilling over his lower belly in shuddering spurts.

The aftermath lasted longer than usual; as he started to come down, every muscle in his body loosening with that release, there were still twitches of euphoric sensation running through him. Saruhiko’s fingers pulled out of him, prompting a half-pleasant, half-pained jerk. As Yata gazed blurrily up, not quite able to think properly, he was treated to the sight of his boyfriend’s tense, helplessly aroused expression.

Saruhiko’s lips were parted, face red, and eyes glazed over; with his gaze fixed desperately on Yata’s face, he took his own dick in hand and began to stroke frantically, leaning in closer and bracing one shaking arm by Yata’s shoulder.

He got only a few precious seconds to process the sight of his boyfriend looming over him, with an erotic expression and erratic breathing as he jerked himself off in helpless need. The motions of his slender fingers working over his cock were sexy as fuck; Yata felt another shudder wrack his slackened body, and then Saruhiko let out a cry, face twisting as his body went rigid. Thick lines of come spilled from the tip of his dick to blend with the mess on Yata’s lower belly.

_Fuck…_ Yata let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Saruhiko slumped over him, the arm that was propping him up trembling violently as his body relaxed. His eyes were closed and his chest was heaving as he panted, the fingers of his right hand twitching against his softening cock. It only took a second or two for his arm to give out and he slid forward onto his elbow, opening his eyes to stare at Yata with satiated confusion.

For a long moment, they just held it there, breathing slowly evening out as they gazed at each other in mutual post-orgasmic bliss. Then, gradually, rational thought started to seep back in through that euphoric haze.

_What… did we just…?_

Yata felt the heat clamoring up over his neck and onto his face, not sure if he was more stunned or mortified – or still too fucked out to care about either. It was pretty confusing. Saruhiko looked like a hot mess above him, the flush on his pale face intensifying and a little play of emotion in his eyes reflecting Yata’s own feelings back more clearly than he would’ve expected. After a brief second of clarity, Saruhiko clicked his tongue softly and then dropped over onto his side.

Yata turned his head without thinking to keep their gazes locked, instinctively feeling like he wanted that contact. Despite the embarrassment, there was something deeply satisfying in what they’d just done. He couldn’t help but want to keep up the closeness between them.

He didn’t know what the hell to _say_ , but at least Saruhiko wasn’t turning away from him – even as the silence between them started to stretch out and become awkward, he still watched Yata with guarded eyes, obviously waiting for him to make the first move.

_Yeah, thanks for that, asshole._ What the hell was the first move supposed to be, even? Yata resisted the urge to scowl, wracking his brain for an answer. The specifics of what had just happened kept playing out through his head again, the half-embarrassed heat on his face and neck intensifying as he thought about it.

It wasn’t bad. _Obviously._ He’d never had an orgasm like that in his life, and damn, it was good. But they still hadn’t actually _fucked_ , so didn’t that mean this was a failure? Had he wrecked it?

Was it even fucking normal to react like that to just having someone’s _fingers_ up your ass?

_Whatever._ The awkward silence was starting to get to him. “S-say something already!”

Saruhiko’s eyebrows came down. “You could say something yourself,” he mumbled, lips turning down into a frown. “Why should I have to do it?”

“ _Hah?_ The hell’s with that?” Yata didn’t bother fighting the scowl that time, staring back with belligerent embarrassment. “You’re the one who – who did all that stuff, f-fooling around like that – ”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, sharply. “You’re the one who reacted in that exaggerated way,” he muttered. “What did you expect?”

“ _Who’s fault d’you think that was?_ ” Yata glowered back at him, scowl deepening.

“I was following the instructions I read just fine. Your reactions aren’t normal.”

“ _Instructions?_ What the hell kind of instructions said to keep _poking around in my ass_ , you fucker?”

“Most of them said virgins don’t usually come from fingering, at least.”

“Who the hell are you calling a virgin, _virgin?_ ”

For just a beat, they held that contact, indignant and fired up, and then the utter ridiculousness of the conversation struck him, and Yata felt his scowl start to waver, hilarity rushing up fast at the back of his throat, egged on by his frazzled nerves.

In front of his eyes, Saruhiko’s mouth also quirked, and then a split second later they were both laughing, a little desperate but with that rueful edge at the end as the initial burst settled into helpless snickering.

_Seriously, what the hell’s with us, anyway?_

Yata reached up to swipe at his eyes as the unexpected attack subsided, grinning back at his boyfriend. The tension from before had been effectively shattered, and he felt way more at ease. “We fucked up, huh? Not that it was bad or anything,” he added, as an afterthought.

Saruhiko’s eyes clouded a little. “Wasn’t it?” he murmured.

_That again?_ Yata raised an eyebrow at him, gesturing to the mess on his stomach and chest. “This kinda says something, huh?” he pointed out, and shook his head a little on the pillow. “Yeah, it was good. Weird, but good.” He thought back to that desperate, flushed expression, and the faint prickle of flustered heat spread across his cheeks again. “You – you think so too, right?”

Those long-lashed lids lowered halfway. “Didn’t you already say it? That” – Saruhiko reached out to tap a finger lightly against the bottom edge of Yata’s ribcage – “should say something.”

Right, yeah. Yata felt a little shiver run through him at the reminder, and let his own eyelids go heavy. “You coulda just done it, y’know,” he murmured, smile widening out into something like a smirk. “I mean, f-fuck me.” It was still somehow kind of embarrassing to say it.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue with what seemed like half-hearted exasperation. “I only got two fingers in. Besides, you would’ve been over-sensitive. It wouldn’t have been comfortable. And I didn’t even have a chance to get a condom ready.”

The series of muttered reasoning was pretty revealing. Yata caught the unspoken addition. _And you wouldn’t have lasted long, huh?_ Sometimes he thought Saruhiko had even more pride than he did. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” _Well, doesn’t matter._ “Anyway, next time, right?”

That earned him another of those wary looks. “If you say so.”

“Heh.” Yata grinned back, feeling more confident, and reached down to grasp the hand still lingering near his chest, not minding the slickness as he wrapped those slender fingers in his. “You still wanna do it, don’t you? Let’s give it another go tomorrow!” The memory of how it had felt with just Saruhiko’s fingers inside him was enough to stir up genuine enthusiasm. “Hell, if it’s like that just from this, it’s gotta be awesome going all the way, right?”

Saruhiko blinked at him, momentarily taken aback, and then his expression softened again. “I guess.” His fingers tightened around Yata’s. “We’ll find out sooner or later, anyway.”

“Right?” That familiar squirming excitement stirred in his belly at the gesture. It was maybe kinda dumb, but Saruhiko always affected him like that. Yata felt his grin widening again almost helplessly, and impulsively pushed forward with, “Hey, think your bathroom could fit us both for washing up?”

Again, kinda stupid, but he didn’t feel like letting go just yet.

He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble. “Probably not,” Saruhiko responded drily. He paused just long enough for Yata to deflate a little, and then his lips quirked in a lazy smirk. “Let’s try it anyway.”

For a moment, Yata could only stare in response. Then he let out a rueful huff of breath, shaking his head as much as the pillow allowed. “You asshole.” When he raised his eyes again to make contact, though, he felt content. “All right, let’s do it!”

 

* * *

 

 

The bathroom did not fit them both – at least, not comfortably.

There was no chance in hell that two grown men would fit in that tiny tub, and the washing area could barely accommodate both of them even if one of them stood straight up against the wall, so they ended up taking turns anyway, not quite bold enough to wash each other’s backs but alternately spraying each other with the showerhead in response to a snarky remark here and there. Misaki washed up first – the fact that he’d taken on more of the mess from the evening’s activities made that an easy decision – and then soaked in the tub while Fushimi took his turn on the stool.

Sharing that cramped space would have bothered him any other time, but Fushimi found he didn’t mind the awkward maneuvering so much just then. It had given him more excuses to brush against Misaki’s bare skin, slick with soap and water and warm from both the humidity in that little room and his own natural body heat. The feel of it against Fushimi’s left a pleasant tingle at each incidental brush, effectively distracting him, and so it wasn’t until they’d shifted positions and he was comfortably situated on the stool lathering up that he had a chance to let the results of the evening’s activity really sink in.

There was one small triumph to be found in that failed attempt, after all: he’d somehow managed to make Misaki come just by fingering him. The knowledge sent a tiny shiver through his body, which he tried his best to suppress. Based on everything he’d read, it wasn’t normally that easy. Either his technique was unexpectedly good or Misaki was unexpectedly sensitive, or some combination of the two.

Either way he hadn’t expected it, and he’d already been worked up enough that seeing Misaki in the throes of some kind of intense orgasm had completely unwound the tattered remains of his control. Which was… overwhelming, but he didn’t really mind it. Something about losing control in this sense felt satisfying on a deeper level.

_I wasn’t the only one, anyway…_

He could still picture it clearly: Misaki’s slight, muscled body writhing on the bed in response to the smallest movement from Fushimi’s fingers. His eyes had been glazed, face flushed and expression tightening with pleasure.

He’d looked… amazing, honestly. Fushimi’s heart started to beat faster just thinking about it.

To be honest, he was sure he could’ve been up for another try even that night – and Misaki probably would’ve gone along with it, if the warm looks he got whenever their eyes met were any indication – but it felt like too much at that point. He needed space to process.

A light touch on his shoulder broke him out of those thought; when he looked up, Misaki was leaning over the edge of the tub, gingerly running a finger along his skin. There was a little frown on his face. “That’s gonna bruise,” he said, voice low and raised his eyes to meet Fushimi’s gaze, clearing his throat with obvious consternation. “Sorry.”

It took a moment to realize what he was talking about. Fushimi turned his head, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at the red on his shoulder left by Misaki’s fingers – there would be a matching mark on the other side, too – and shrugged slightly. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

At the time, the pain hadn’t really registered against the arousal. If anything, it had been more of a turn-on; Misaki had a tendency to hold back his strength, so making him lose it to the point of getting rough was a heady feeling. Fushimi allowed himself a small smile, resisting the urge to touch one of the marks himself.

He wasn’t opposed to a visible reminder of how strongly he’d affected Misaki.

If anything, that troubled frown just deepened. “Still…”

“I said it’s fine, right?” Fushimi raised an eyebrow in response, reaching out to prod lightly at the visible dark patch on Misaki’s neck. “Think of it as revenge if it makes you feel better.”

Misaki blinked, momentarily startled, and then his cheeks colored noticeably, even against the natural flush from the bath. It was fascinating to watch. “R-right, yeah.” He reached up to roughly grasp Fushimi’s hand, meeting his gaze with bold – if flustered – determination. “Still gonna repay that _properly_ someday, just wait!”

“Mm.” That was a promising thought. Fushimi smirked in response, letting his eyelids go heavy without thinking about it. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

Watching the heat flood Misaki’s striking eyes in response was immensely gratifying.

Despite the awkwardness, they finished with the bath in relatively short order, with Misaki toweling off just outside as Fushimi took his turn to soak and then sitting comfortably on the bed running Apocalypse Bunker on his phone and rambling off a running commentary while Fushimi dried and dressed in turn. They continued the game just long enough for their hair to dry, side by side against the headboard in a position that reminded him of the first time they’d played in that cellar, and then called it a night.

Misaki kissed him before they’d settled under the covers, the way he always did when they were about to sleep. It was a habit that Fushimi had picked up on but not bothered to mention – he wasn’t even sure if Misaki was conscious of it, and he’d probably deny it vehemently either way if it was brought up.

_Well, it’s not like I mind._ There was something comforting about that warm, casually affectionate press of lips on his. The constancy of it being a regular thing made it feel somehow… welcoming. Familiar. Like what he imagined the word ‘home’ was meant to express.

_Home._ There was still that to think about too…

Another time, though. Fushimi lay on his side on the double bed and watched Misaki’s sleepy smile through lidded eyes until his expression softened and his breathing evened out, and then let himself relax against the pull of sleep as well.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning was busy, which was kind of a curse and a blessing as far as Yata was concerned. A blessing because being busy kept his mind off of things, and a curse because he didn’t have a goddamn second to stop and _think_.

They’d woken up to the alarm that morning, so there hadn’t been time to do much more than exchange a few kisses and some conversation over the breakfast table. Still, there was something comforting about those simple things. Yata hadn’t been unhappy living by himself – he had a busy life and plenty to occupy him outside of his home – but having Saruhiko there made him happier than he’d expected. It was kinda gratifying to have someone to eat with, someone to talk to… someone to wake up and see first thing.

If he was being honest, that was probably another part of his reasoning for wanting to move in together. Maybe it was a bit selfish, but he liked the company. It was as much about having someone to be a home for him as it was being a home for someone else. He couldn’t help but yearn for both sides of that.

_Well, no guarantees he’ll go for it._ Saruhiko was the kind of person to get stubborn about his space. But if he planted the idea now, they could talk about it. Eventually Yata was pretty sure he’d get somewhere. He just had to be patient. Or something.

_No point thinking about it now anyway._ There was still that night to think about.

That night… Just thinking about it made his fingers tremble. He couldn’t help it. It was so –

“Orders up, Yata-san!” Bandou called, interrupting that thought.

Yata gave himself a mental shake, reaching for his board again. _No time for that, c’mon._ “Got it! I’m heading out!”

The morning and noon rushes ended up blending together, so it was early afternoon by the time things started to die down and they were able to breathe a little. Catching up on breaks was the first priority. Bandou, as the early shifter that day, had gone for a much-delayed lunch break, while Eric cleaned the unoccupied tables and Yata re-stocked. Fujishima was left to watch both the front counter and the tablet that connected them to Scepter 4.

Yata had just finished stacking the last of the to-go cups when the familiar jingle sounded and a voice he was starting to get to know announced, “Hey there! I’m here for a visit, finally!” When he turned, Saruhiko’s coworker, Doumyouji, was strolling up to the counter, smile wide and eyes bright. “Chitose said I should come in and see you guys – this place is really cool once you’re inside, huh?”

_What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not cool from the outside?_ Yata resisted the urge to narrow his eyes – he was pretty sure Doumyouji was a good guy, based on the few times they’d chatted – and settled for aiming a frown over the till as Fujishima stepped up to the counter with a quiet welcome. “Chitose’s off today.”

“Huh? Really?” Doumyouji slumped, looking almost comically disappointed. “He should’ve said something when we talked yesterday! I figured we could hang out for a bit since I’m on a break…”

Fujishima offered him a small smile. “You could still hang out here if you want. We’re not that busy.”

“Finally,” Eric added in an undertone, lifting the counter to come through with his bucket.

“It’s fine – I’ll catch up with him another time!” Doumyouji waved a careless hand, still with that easy, open smile on his face. “But since I’m here…” His eyes drifted to the menu. “You guys have a lot of really sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Yata couldn’t help a sharp, amused ‘heh’ at that, easing up enough to grin in return. “What was your first clue?”

“There’s cake too, if you want it,” Fujishima pointed out quietly.

“Hmm, pass for now. Kamo made a lemon loaf this morning.” Doumyouji studied the menu for another moment, looking thoughtful, and then smiled with satisfaction, turning his gaze back towards Fujishima. “I’ll get a French Vanilla Mocha – extra shot of syrup, extra whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles and a caramel swirl on top. Oh, and to-go – please and thank you!”

Yata stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to take the request seriously. “Does that even count as a coffee any more…?”

Fujishima was already dutifully punching the order into the till. “Coming right up,” he said with a completely straight face, after getting the total on the screen.

“All right – can’t wait!” Doumyouji beamed at his back as he turned to start mixing the ridiculously sugary order. He leaned forward against the counter with a content-sounding hum, before looking up and fixing his gaze on Yata. Something seemed to occur to him then, and he perked up. “Ah, right! Did you and Fushimi-san work things out last night, Yata? He’s been in a good mood all day.” A split second of hesitation later, he added with a bit of a rueful tone, “Well, better than usual, anyway.”

The implication was enough to freeze him in place, skin prickling up. Yata found himself struck by two different parts in that carefree statement, one right after the other.

‘He’s been in a good mood all day.’ Which meant Saruhiko was feeling good about last night. Maybe even excited for what was coming. A little thrill shot through his body at that, and Yata had to clench his teeth against the urge to shiver. All day long, he’d felt… different. Not really in a bad way, just sorta confusing. Or, well, not even that – he _knew_ what he felt like but it was hard to believe the degree and the direction.

Seriously, from the second he’d woken up and getting gradually stronger through the day, there was that sense of anticipation – and want. The remembered sensation of Saruhiko’s fingers was sharp in his brain, and he couldn’t get it to stop. Having stuff to do helped, but it wasn’t like it actually left him alone. It was even worse than before, and he couldn’t seem to relax at all.

Whether it was normal or not, it had felt fucking incredible, and all he could think was that he wanted more. It made his whole body burn just looking back at what they’d done. Worse when he pictured Saruhiko’s reaction. _He was like that because of me,_ was the thought that wouldn’t stop.

And now, here was this guy casually tossing off confirmation that Saruhiko was probably thinking about it too.

_Fuck._ He was strongly tempted to march over to Scepter 4 right now and tell them he was taking his goddamn boyfriend for the rest of the day and they could all suck it if they didn’t like that. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he was gonna have to explain himself afterwards, and this shit was embarrassing as hell. ‘I just couldn’t wait to have his dick up my ass’? He wasn’t sure he’d survive admitting it.

Still, the rush of feeling was strong enough to kick off a physical reaction. His skin flushed, all the way along his torso and up to his face. It distracted him for a whole second or two before he honed in on the other part of what Doumyouji had said.

‘Did you and Fushimi-san work things out last night?’

All at once, it was like that heated blood drained out of his body. Yata stiffened, vision clearing, and stared back at Doumyouji with growing horror. “W-wait… last night… you – you know…?”

“Hm?” Doumyouji tilted his head curiously, then shrugged, offering that easy smile again. “Yeah, Fushimi-san said something about it in the break room yesterday. I was really surprised, you know?” He spread his hands. “But it’s not really a big deal – I mean, we’re all cool with offering advice and all.”

“ _What?_ ” Incredulity overrode mortification in that one instant. Yata braced both fists on the counter, gaping at that smiling face. “Sa… Saruhiko asked you? _Seriously?_ ”

“Well, more or less…” Doumyouji shrugged – way too casually, in Yata’s opinion. “Hey, who can you count on if not your comrades for that sort of thing, right?”

It was like something broke in the back of his brain – he could almost hear the loud crunch as it fell apart. _Saruhiko seriously asked for advice. On sex._ It was the most unbelievable thing he could remember hearing in almost twenty-one years of being alive. He couldn’t seem to process it. “But,” he sputtered and couldn’t seem to make his thoughts work enough to form the words that would follow.

Seriously, just that ‘but’ covered it. _But everything, damnit! There’s no way in hell…_

The door to the back room opened behind him. “Why is that so hard to believe?” Eric’s voice said drily. “You asked us for advice, remember?”

Somehow, that snapped him back out of it. Yata shot him a scowl over his shoulder, feeling his face burn as he remembered how that conversation had gone. He’d been halfway thinking about maybe bringing it up again to see if Saruhiko had been telling the truth about the fact that his reactions were weird, but it was fucking embarrassing in the first place! That was beside the point right now, though. “That’s different! This is _Saruhiko_ we’re talking about here! Th-there’s no way…”

“Mm… yeah, you know, normally I’d agree with you,” Doumyouji mused. When Yata turned back to face him, he had a thoughtful expression on his face. “But recently Fushimi-san’s been a lot… uh… well, not exactly ‘friendly’, but less… hm… himself, I guess.” He flashed another bright grin, spreading his hands again. “He sometimes talks to us, even. Weird, I know.”

Yata’s eyebrow twitched. Okay, yeah, he got that – it made sense based on what Saruhiko had told him when they were in that cellar together. But still… “Th-that’s not the point! Look, this is a weird subject, okay? Even when I brought it up, it wasn’t really for _advice_ – ”

“Except for the part where it was,” Eric added, passing behind him.

He whipped around again to glare. “ _Hah?_ D-don’t put words in my mouth! I just wanted informa – ”

The expression he got back was unimpressed. “You asked me how it felt to take it up the ass.”

“AH!” Yata floundered for a second, feeling heat rush up to his face again. “ _What the hell?_ That was a private conversation, goddamnit!”

Eric sighed. “You’re the one who’s always being so loud and making them public.”

Yata glowered back at him, fists tightening. “What’s that got to do with anything, huh?”

“Uh. ‘Scuse me.” Doumyouji raised a hand, glancing between them with a kind of bright-eyed curiosity. “I’m probably missing something, but what’s taking it up the ass got to do with moving in together? Is this a new trend I didn’t hear about yet?”

The weirdly casual way he said ‘taking it up the ass’ almost distracted from the rest of the sentence. Yata gaped at him for a second time, caught without words.

‘Moving in together’.

_Fucking ‘moving in together’._

Saruhiko had asked for advice… about that?

Before he could quite gather his wits, Fujishima abruptly turned, holding out the to-go cup. The expression on his face was perfectly bland, as if none of the conversation going on around him had evoked any kind of reaction. “Here.”

“Oh, sweet!” Apparently that was enough to distract Doumyouji from the rest. He beamed back, reaching out to take the offered drink. “Thanks a lot!”

“Hold on a sec…” Yata pressed the ball of his hand hard against the counter, frowning at Doumyouji and trying to will away the warm traces of embarrassment still lingering on his face. “Saruhiko asked you for advice about moving in together?”

Doumyouji blinked at him. “Yeah. Well, sort of. He was a bit vague, now that I think about it…” He shrugged. “Anyway, same idea.”

_Same idea, he says…_ Yata let his frown deepen, feeling his eyebrows crease as he worked his way through that. Saruhiko asking for advice about moving in together… Obviously not about _how_ to move in together, since it wasn’t complicated or anything, so what the hell was he asking? How to make up his mind?

That really seemed unlikely, considering this was _Saruhiko_. There was no way he’d rely on others to make that kind of decision – not without a push.

Still, he had to have asked about something – Doumyouji wasn’t the lying type. Honestly, though, as the reality of that sank in, Yata found he didn’t care much. If Saruhiko was asking for advice, it meant he was actually _thinking_ about it. It meant he’d caught it when Yata had blurted it out, kept it in his mind even through all this focus on the sex, and was giving it serious, conscious thought.

Somehow, just that simple fact sent a rush of warmth through him – not the uncomfortable warmth that came with embarrassment, but the heady, light warmth he was coming to associate with his feelings for Saruhiko.

It was crazy just how good these little things could make him feel. Hell, he didn’t even care what kind of answer he was going to get. Anything was fine. Just that one fact – _he gave it serious thought_ – was enough.

_Guess I really do have it bad, huh?_

“Why?” Domyouji’s voice cut into his silent musing; when he looked up, that bright, curious gaze was on him again. “What were you thinking of?”

Oh, right. _Shit._ “N-never mind!” Yata brought up one of his hands without thinking, waving it with flustered energy. “Th-that’s not important, got it? It’s nothing!”

Eric snorted. “I doubt that. You’ve been acting stupidly happy all morning.”

_That_ caught him off-guard. “Wait, what?” Had he really been acting differently? Yata’s eyebrows came down with instinctive, defensive agitation, lips curling down in a scowl. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“Eric,” Fujishima added in quiet rebuke.

“Sorry.” Eric shrugged in response and looked up again to meet Yata’s gaze. One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Actually, it’s not really a bad thing.”

“Agreed!” Doumyouji nodded in confident solidarity. “I mean, if you’re both happy then things must be going all right.” He grinned at Yata. “Well, good luck with figuring out the moving in thing, huh? Oh, and tell Chitose I said hi! I’ll catch him next time.” He took several steps backwards before turning smoothly to face the door, tossing a wave over his shoulder with his free hand. “See you guys!”

“He has a lot of energy for an office worker,” Fujishima remarked as the door jingled shut.

Eric snorted. “Reminds me of someone else in this room.”

Yata shot him a half-hearted glare. “Yeah, whatever.” His thoughts were more on Doumyouji’s words: that ‘you’re both happy’ part. It brought him back to the way their conversation had started out, and the reason behind his reaction. The reasons that had been bugging him all day so far.

_Tonight, huh?_

That restless yearning was back, worse than ever now with the blend of comfortable infatuation and suppressed desire. They were gonna fuck – for _real_ , no finishing halfway this time – and if it felt anything like it had last night…

Hell, he really didn’t know what to expect. His heart was starting to drum up a storm in his chest.

Still… _Can’t think about that right now._ Yata clenched his hand back into a fist on the counter, and drew up as much determination as he could muster. “How’re the deliveries?” he asked, willing the thoughts back down and trying to ignore the lingering heat on his face and neck.

Eric glanced at the tablet. “We’ve got three.”

Good enough. Yata started for the machine, relieved to have somewhere to direct his energy. “All right! Read me the orders, and I’ll do ‘em up right now!”

Somehow or another, he was gonna make it through the work day. _Somehow._

 

* * *

 

 

It was past the usual lunchtime, which was normally when Fushimi would’ve taken his break. Today, however, the connection between his case and Akiyama’s had been cracked open and there had been a great deal of emergency work for everyone, which had only quieted down less than half an hour ago. Following that, almost everyone had taken the opportunity to get lunch, and so every desk around him was empty.

Which of course meant that most of his co-workers were in the break room, and he was avoiding it at all costs.

_Well, it might’ve been fine on another day._ As he’d noted in the recent past, he didn’t actively dislike any of the people he worked with. Under normal circumstances, at least. But today, he had things on his mind that he wasn’t particularly interested in thinking about with others around.

And when he wasn’t working, it was unfortunately becoming difficult to control the direction his thoughts took.

_Misaki…_

That was it right there: Misaki. Giving him that heated smirk with his eyes lidded and seeming to burn, a ring of brilliant amber surrounding the wide, dark circle of his pupils. Lying on Fushimi’s bed with his tanned skin seeming to stand out against the plain bedspread. Face flushed and head thrown back as his body shuddered with pleasure.

Smiling sleepily at him as he drifted off.

The bruises on his shoulders seemed to throb, though the pain wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Fushimi wasn’t quite sure if the longing rising fast at the back of his throat was born more of desire or that tantalizing sense of something that seemed to fit the classic definition of _home_ somehow. Both seemed to be equally powerful – and equally overwhelming.

Firstly, he wanted to fuck Misaki – that would happen tonight, and the anticipation was close to driving him mad. It was tempting to just leave – with the morning’s excitement cleared up, there was nothing particularly pressing, and he had enough confidence in his efficiency that his remaining work could wait until Monday. With his brain on fire like this, he was feeling crazy enough to give it serious thought.

Absently, Fushimi reached up to brush his fingers over one shoulder, a faint mimicry of that rough grasp from last night. Yes, he definitely wanted to continue from that point – to see where things went from there. Those little tantalizing reminders were clouding his thoughts and making it almost difficult to breathe around that haze of desire.

But then at least some of his co-workers – and certainly his _boss_ – would probably guess why he’d left early, and that thought was repugnant enough to keep him from doing something stupid.

_Don’t be ridiculous._ Fushimi clicked his tongue, slouching in his seat and frowning at the monitor as he half-heartedly watched his script execute. _You’ll see him tonight, and there’s no need to come in tomorrow. That’s enough, isn’t it?_

It didn’t feel like it, but he hadn’t quite gotten to the point where feelings overrode logic. Thankfully.

Secondly, though…

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, shutting his eyes for a moment. He wanted to live with Misaki. Falling asleep and waking up to the sight of that familiar smile – familiar back – familiar _everything_. Chatting about inanities over breakfast. Over dinner, sometimes. Casually playing games together. Casually kissing. Casually… being. Falling into a comfortable rhythm of existing together.

He craved it so fiercely, it was almost alarming – an emotional counterpart to that intense physical longing.

_That’s no reason to rush into –_

The thought was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open. Fushimi looked up sharply, and caught sight of Doumyouji standing in the doorway leading from the café – just seconds before Doumyouji glanced around and caught sight of him.

The smile that spread on his co-worker’s face was not exactly encouraging. Fushimi frowned back, immediately suspicious. _Why is he looking at me like that?_

Without a word – just a self-satisfied sounding hum, actually – Doumyouji turned away and hastily crossed the room, skirting the workstations to head for the break room. Almost before he’d flung open the door, he was already boisterously calling out, “Hey! You guys are never gonna guess what I just found out!”

_You’re too loud, idiot._ Fushimi shot a scowl at the break room door – which had not closed properly in the wake of that human tornado passing through – still feeling unnerved by that single moment of contact. He had a bad feeling about that smile…

“No, no! Come on – _guess!_ ”

That was it. Fushimi abruptly pushed his chair away from his desk, standing quickly. _Someone’s trying to work out here, you simpleton._ He strode quickly to the door as Doumyouji continued to harp on triumphantly about whatever inane piece of gossip he’d picked up, reaching for the handle.

It was just as he flung the door open Doumyouji loudly blurted, “Sounds like Fushimi-san got lucky with Yata last night!”

The world seemed to freeze.

Dimly, Fushimi was aware that most of his co-workers – minus Hidaka and Fuse, who were working in the café, and Kamo, who was out of the office with Awashima on field work, were staring at him with increasingly alarmed gazes, some of them bordering on horror. That was outside of the angry buzzing at the back of his mind; he directed the majority of his ire into a death glare at the back of Doumyouji’s head.

_How…?_

After that second of dismay, Enomoto raised a hand feebly to wave for a halt. “Uh… Doumyouji-san… I don’t think – ”

“No, no, see, it’s true!” Doumyouji seemed to have missed the tense mood; he waved his own arms enthusiastically in response, and Fushimi caught sight of the Homra to-go cup clutched in one of his hands.

_Ah._

He and Misaki were going to have words, apparently.

The idiot was still going, though. “One of Yata’s friends said something about ‘taking it up the ass’ and he got really defensive, but he didn’t actually deny it, y’know, it was pretty suspicious and – ”

Akiyama cleared his throat meaningfully, interrupting that excited rambling. Without speaking, he inclined his head in Fushimi’s direction, expression composed and faintly apologetic. “Fushimi-san,” he greeted, politely.

Doumyouji actually made an ‘urk’ sound, turning around slowly with an expression of almost comical dread. “A-ah… Fushimi-san…”

Fushimi let one of his knives slide free onto his palm, narrowing his eyes in response. “ _Go on_ ,” he ground out, low and dangerous. “I _can’t wait_ to find out how you came across this… fascinating information.”

In the background, several people shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.

“Eh, well…” Doumyouji fidgeted with clear apprehension, but seemed to decide ‘what the hell’ and plunged onward. “I just went there to visit a friend – but it turned out he wasn’t there, so I chatted with Yata and the others for a bit.” He shrugged, a bit jerkily, his words starting to spill out more quickly. “I figured maybe the reason you seemed to be in such a good mood today was that you guys talked about the ‘moving in’ stuff, so you know, it was just – ”

“What.” It came out flat with disbelief. Fushimi felt his lips twist in a scowl. _Good mood? Seriously?_

What about him had given off that impression?

“Uh, so, does anyone else not know what the ‘moving in’ thing is?” Gotou asked in an undertone.

“Shh!” Enomoto frantically gestured for him to stop.

“Well, it’s true!” Doumyouji protested. He glanced over his shoulder for support. “You guys noticed it too, right? Fushimi-san’s been in a good mood all day so far! He barely even snapped at me when he told me to redo my last report.”

“Ah. That’s true.” Gotou nodded. Enomoto shot him a despairing look.

Out of the rest, Akiyama seemed to be the only one inclined to meet Fushimi’s surly glare. “You did seem to give off that kind of impression, Fushimi-san,” he noted, with a tiny apologetic smile. “I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing.”

Fushimi stared at him, nonplussed. He wasn’t sure whether to be more annoyed that he’d given off some kind of unexpected vibe or surprised that his co-workers had actually picked up on it. Exactly how far from his usual behavior had he deviated?

“Right?” Doumyouji seemed to gain confidence from the solidarity, nodding earnestly as Fushimi shot him a baleful look. “One of the guys – didn’t catch his name – dropped something about Yata being happy all morning too, so there you go!” He frowned a bit, thoughtfully. “I think that was after he said the bit about ‘taking it up the ass’, actually…”

_Misaki was?_ Fushimi found his fingers clenching briefly on the hilt of the knife. He wasn’t sure why that knowledge should be surprising. After what they’d done, it should be normal if Misaki was happy. He’d certainly been happy enough in the immediate aftermath, and the contentment in his smiles the following morning was relaxed and sincere.

The following morning as he _cooked_ for them – as he sat across from Fushimi and they ate in companionable silence, like all of this was normal.

It felt like a tiny, invisible lance striking his heart. Painful, but… not unwelcome.

Still, there was this mess to deal with. Fushimi clicked his tongue, his anger dulled out to a vague irritation. He leveled Doumyouji with a flat, unimpressed stare. “That’s a shitty reason for talking about someone else’s business like a brainless idiot who can’t keep his nose to himself. Honestly, are you five years old?”

“Eh?” Doumyouji actually seemed dismayed at that. “Wait, but isn’t it interesting to hear about what the people you know are up to? I mean, I thought that news was pretty exciting, actually…” He craned his neck to look for support. “Who’d have thought Fushimi-san would actually get laid, right?”

There was a moment of strained, uncomfortable silence.

Enomoto seemed to be doing his very best to be enthralled by some stain on the table in front of him. Goto was busily scratching his elbow, eyes trained away awkwardly. Akiyama gave Doumyouji something of a pitying look, arms crossed over his chest. And Benzai… had gone back to his book, as if none of this was taking place around him.

He was probably the smartest of them.

_Well, I wouldn’t have thought it either._ Fushimi clicked his tongue again, bending his arm to slide the knife back into place with a single, quick movement. “Do you even think before opening your mouth, or does it just flap around like that by habit?”

Doumyouji turned with a bit of a sheepish grin, spreading his hands. “I just kind of go by instinct, you know?”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Honestly, he was probably losing brain cells just by standing there dealing with this. Fushimi turned for the door again, letting out his breath sharply. _What a waste of time._ “You can put those instincts to good use this afternoon organizing the supply room.”

“Eh – wait, _what?_ ” Doumyouji’s voice was loud and notably dismayed. “Why me?”

Fushimi pulled the door open without bothering to turn or answer.

“Doumyouji-san, you really don’t know your limits, do you?” Enomoto mumbled behind him.

“What do you mean? What did I do?”

“Fushimi-san.” Akiyama’s polite voice cut through the whining. Fushimi paused, looking back over his shoulder, and got a calm gaze and a small smile. “Good luck with whatever you’re trying to figure out.”

The little bit of warmth that sparked in his chest in response was somehow embarrassing. Fushimi clicked his tongue again half-heartedly and turned back. “Yeah.” A split second of hesitation later, he added a grudging, “Thanks,” and then escaped through the door, letting it shut behind him.

Even as he made his way back to his desk in silence, parts of the conversation were still replaying in his brain. Most notably, the part about Misaki being in a good mood. The implications didn’t seem to have quite sunk in, somehow.

_Does he feel this as strongly as I do?_

Not that some nebulous ‘good mood’ indicated the kind of restless desire lurking just beneath the surface of Fushimi’s thoughts, but after last night… He remembered Misaki’s reactions well. Not only that, though – there were also the lingering touches and kisses that followed to consider. Even during their brief time together that morning, he’d felt the heat of Misaki’s eyes on him.

Despite the long-standing instinct that told him not to rely on any kind of reciprocation from others, somehow Fushimi felt strongly that their feelings were in sync on this.

Misaki wanted this as much as he did – even the lingering doubts couldn’t shake that certainty.

The script had completed its execution; he returned to his desk to find a message indicating success and a reading of the results. Fushimi slumped into his seat, frowning at the screen for a moment. _As if I didn’t have enough difficulty with this stupid business…_

It didn’t matter. He pulled in his chair, firmly drawing his mind back to the matter at hand. His concentration was good enough – he could make it through the day properly as long as he had work to focus his attention on.

And once he and Misaki were alone…

_Don’t think about that now._ Surely he could keep a cool head regardless of the situation. It wasn’t as if he’d ever allowed ridiculous things like this to impact his judgment or force his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Yata barely had time to turn around after Saruhiko’s apartment door shut behind them, fully intent on pinning his boyfriend against it – and found himself pulled in before he could make the move, Saruhiko’s hands gripping his hips in a surprisingly rough fashion. There were lips on his before he could think to lean up and bring them together himself, clumsy and fervent.

_Damn. Okay then!_

His body moved on instinct to reply in kind, pressing Saruhiko back against the solid wood of the door and opening his mouth under the sudden onslaught. He clenched his fingers against Saruhiko’s arms, a little spark of arousal stirring to life within him at the feel of wiry muscle beneath them – and then growing sharper as those fine-boned hands slid down to squeeze his ass firmly, drawing their lower bodies into contact.

_Fuck_ , was it ever a turn-on. Yata groaned a little into Saruhiko’s mouth, already feeling the heat from the demanding motions, and wedged one of his legs between his boyfriend’s for better leverage.

Okay, to be fair, he’d been worked up since before they’d met up, and then whipped into a frenzy by Saruhiko’s proximity on the bus and during the walk home. This was just the final straw. He couldn’t even remember what kind of conversation they’d had – if they’d had one. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch, to kiss, to _feel_. He was so fucking ready to go he’d have been fine with it if Saruhiko wanted to bend him over the kitchen counter right now.

Hell, that sounded kinda hot – maybe another day…

Saruhiko made an urgent little sound, the soft vibration from it feeding into the feverish heat that had already built in Yata’s body. The fingers on his ass clenched against the fabric of his shorts roughly, as if trying to press through to the flesh beneath.

He still remembered vividly what it had felt like when those fingers slid inside him. Another sharp little spike of lustful pleasure had Yata shuddering, hips grinding forward to press his half-formed erection against Saruhiko’s hip.

It was going fast – way too fucking fast, probably – but he didn’t give a shit. Saruhiko’s mouth was hot and needy, his body warm beneath Yata’s hands, and – damnit – there was too much clothing between them. He wanted to feel _skin_ , not cloth.

“Mm… Misaki?” Saruhiko mumbled against his lips as Yata moved his hands to fumble with the buttons of that pristine work shirt. His fingers felt clumsy and shaky under the pressure of the desire building to a fever pitch in his body; he had to fight the urge to yank it open with all his strength rather than fucking around with this. Their breath mingled, mouths not quite separating in the rush, and then Saruhiko’s hands slid up from his ass to creep under his shirt, cool fingers caressing the heated skin beneath.

Yata let out a startled gasp, fingers jerking as he was momentarily distracted from his original goal. Another little shiver went through him as Saruhiko’s fingers teased him, slowly moving upward with the obvious intent of pulling his shirt along.

Hell, he wasn’t gonna protest. The sooner they got naked, the better, in his opinion. “Got it,” Yata mumbled, breaking free for long enough to struggle free of the inconvenient fabric. He tossed both it and the undershirt beneath it off to the side without caring where they landed, returning to his original task with urgency as Saruhiko’s hands ran almost lazily up the sides of his body, thumbs tracing the line of his ribcage.

_Fucking…_ It felt like there were a million buttons. Yata clenched his teeth, grinding his lower body forward to trap Saruhiko against the door with frustrated aggression as he fumbled with them. “How many fucking buttons are on this thing?” he ground out, feeling an impatient little twinge of pleasure at the responding shift of Saruhiko’s hips against his – the unmistakable press of an erection against his abdomen. His fingers trembled. “Goddamnit! Help me already, Saruhiko!”

“Mmhm.” His boyfriend’s fingers tightened briefly against his bare skin; Yata jerked his head up to glare and was greeted with the soft press of Saruhiko’s mouth against his, tongue slipping out slyly to trace the curve of Yata’s lip. The slide of pleasant sensation blanked his thoughts for a moment – and then Saruhiko’s hands were leaving him, working between them to undo the bottom buttons.

_Finally!_ The two ends of fabric parted, allowing Yata to slide it open, fingers brushing greedily along the smooth, firm expanse of Saruhiko’s chest. He circled his thumb experimentally around one pert nipple and felt his boyfriend’s breath hitch against his mouth. Saruhiko made another pleased hum and hastily tucked his arms back, pulling the shirt off of them before reaching out to slide his hands around Yata’s hips again, this time slipping his fingers under the waistband to tease the skin beneath.

It felt good; Yata moaned again without restrain, surging up against Saruhiko’s mouth in response and bringing their naked upper bodies into contact. “Saruhiko,” he half-growled out, barely separating their lips, and felt the erratic breathing against his cheek as they continued to kiss hungrily through it. His hands squirmed between Saruhiko’s back and the door as they pressed against it again, drawing them as close together as he could manage.

His dick was already fully hard, his lower body shifting needily against the curve of Saruhiko’s hip, but outside of the frenzied heat that had taken over his brain, he was aware that they hadn’t even fucking moved from the door. The bed – which had to be their eventual destination – was _across the goddamn room_ and he still had his shoes on.

_Shit._ Yata broke away from the kiss reluctantly, tipping his head so their foreheads met and his lips couldn’t be chased, offering a breathy, “One sec,” as he hastily kicked off his shoes. Above him, Saruhiko’s eyes had narrowed almost to slits, only a thin line visible of each and a dark flush spread beneath them. It made Yata’s heart start to pound.

_Damnit, focus…_

There was movement against him as Saruhiko stepped out of his boots, and Yata took advantage of the distraction to slide his hands to the front again and start working at the fastener of his boyfriend’s work pants.

It was difficult with the lack of space between their bodies, but he didn’t want to bother putting distance between them. Saruhiko seemed to agree, if the way his fingers clenched briefly against Yata’s lower back was any indication. “I’ll leave that part to you,” he murmured, a note of urgency in his voice, and extracted his hands to reach for the front of Yata’s shorts as well.

His fingers brushed – probably not-so-accidentally – against the covered lump of Yata’s erection, and the resulting spike of sensation pulled a startled moan from Yata’s throat, his fingers jerking and head pressing up hard against Saruhiko’s. “Fuck,” he ground out through clenched teeth and redoubled his efforts.

The button popped open beneath his hands, finally, and he lowered the zipper carefully, taking a moment to give Saruhiko’s erection a squeeze through the thin fabric of his boxers, swiping his thumb across the wet patch over the head and then tilting his head to capture the resulting whine with his lips as Saruhiko shivered against him.

The kiss turned aggressive quickly, Saruhiko’s lips and tongue quickly getting demanding as if in revenge for the tease. Yata gave back as good as he got, hands sliding to grip the sides of his boyfriend’s body and letting out a short, relieved sigh as his shorts loosened and were yanked down over his hips insistently.

“Step back,” Saruhiko murmured without properly breaking the kiss, pushing forward from the door as Yata’s shorts dropped to his ankles.

_Hell yeah._ He could see where this was going. Yata stepped back, stumbling a bit over his own feet as Saruhiko walked him backwards toward the bed, both of them reaching down to tug at the work pants until they met a similar fate to the shorts, dropping off somewhere in the awkward fumbling trip and kicked back off of Saruhiko’s feet ruthlessly.

Their clothed erections brushed, causing them both to gasp out of sync, and Yata just about fell on his ass but recovered with a larger step back and a fair amount of wobbling even as Saruhiko closed the distance relentlessly, catching Yata’s mouth with his own with clumsy insistence.

It was a hell of a fucking turn-on how intent he was, seriously.

Yata wasn’t quite prepared when his knees hit the edge of the bed, and with Saruhiko still edging him on, he overbalanced and fell back, landing heavily on the mattress with a small, startled ‘oof’. He’d barely recovered from the disorientation when Saruhiko was climbing up after him, straddling his hips and staring down at him with lidded eyes, pupils blown wide behind the veil of his lashes. His glasses were askew but he didn’t seem to notice, staring down at Yata with undisguised heat.

_Damn._ Yata swallowed hard, his dick giving a little twinge in response to the sight in front of him. He raised his hands without thinking to run up along Saruhiko’s thighs to his hips, dipping back to feel the tight, clothed curve of his ass as well. It made him feel like his throat was closing up with an overload of excitement. _This is hot as hell, holy shit!_

Saruhiko’s hands closed on his; the corners of his mouth dipped up in the faintest hint of a smirk. “You’re overdressed,” he murmured.

Right – the boxers. Fuck. Yata bit his lip for a moment, eyes tracing the thin lines of Saruhiko’s body. “So are you, damnit,” he managed to grit out, fingers tensing up with helpless want.

If anything, the smirk widened. Saruhiko closed his eyes and then re-opened them slowly, an odd blend of coy and predatory as their gazes locked. “Let’s fix that,” he drawled, and reached up to slowly remove his glasses, setting them aside, “and then we can finish what we started this time, hm?”

That look was just about setting his blood on fire; Yata could feel his heart pounding wildly against his chest, its frantic rhythm reflecting the desire pumping through his veins. He grinned back, open and fierce. “Yeah, you’d better fucking finish it – I’ve been waiting all day for this, _Saruhiko_.”

“Mm.” Saruhiko shifted back slightly, reaching out to take hold of the elastic of Yata’s underwear. “Me too,” he admitted, low and soft but without the usual reluctance. “I thought about you, Misaki. All day.”

It might as well have been a passionate declaration of undying love the way that thought struck through his core. Yata had to bite his lip again around the little groan he couldn’t hold back, a tiny bit of moisture leaking from the dip of his dick as a pleasant ache throbbed along it. “Damnit,” he blurted desperately, reaching down with shaky fingers to help pull the waistband of his boxers down and over, “I fucking did too.” He lifted his hips, bracing himself on the backs of his shoulders as he squirmed free of the confining fabric. Saying the words out loud was like releasing a torrent; he couldn’t hold back once he started. “Can’t help it, goddamnit, I want you!”

Saruhiko was staring at him with parted lips and a burning gaze. “Misaki,” he responded, a little whine mixing into the name, and leaned forward with obvious intent. Yata craned his neck to meet the kiss, reaching up again for Saruhiko’s hips and this time greedily sliding his hands past the elastic band of his underwear to cup his ass, squeezing without shame as his boyfriend moaned into their open-mouthed kiss.

When they finally parted, it was with reluctance. “Take them off,” Saruhiko mumbled at him, tension evident in even the lower pitch of his voice, and backed off, righting himself again.

Yata stared hazily up at him. “Yeah, you too,” he muttered back, feeling foggy-headed with lust.

“I plan to.” Saruhiko shifted to dismount Yata’s hips, dislodging Yata’s hands in the process, and reached down to smoothly tug his own underwear down past his flushed erection before falling back to a seat on the bed and pulling them the rest of the way off.

The sight only stoked that fire burning in his belly even further. A low, needy sound escaped his throat as Yata pushed himself up enough that he could pull his boxers and socks all the way off. “Saruhiko,” he said, not minding the urgency in his own voice. “C’mon…”

“Wait a minute.” Saruhiko shifted again on the bed, reaching under one of the pillows before turning again to face him. He had the bottle from the night before and a telltale, thin foil package in his hands. “We might want to have these before we start,” he drawled, setting them down and reaching forward to tug at Yata’s thigh insistently.

“Y-yeah. Right.” Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel that uncomfortable flush of embarrassment as he obligingly spread his legs, shifting to allow Saruhiko to settle between them. It helped to look up and see the expanse of smooth, pale skin above him – the matching red on Saruhiko’s face and neck – the proud jut of his erection standing between his legs.

The erection that was gonna be inside him pretty soon. Strangely, rather than making him nervous, the thought was exciting. Yata swallowed, remembering how Saruhiko’s fingers had felt stirring within him. The memory gave him another little pleasant twinge, balls tightening with anticipation. “Get on with it,” he growled, aiming a heated look up.

Saruhiko met him with smoldering eyes, shifting his body forward and spreading his knees under Yata’s thighs, so that their lower bodies were nearly in contact. “Raise your hips.”

_This is it, huh?_ He wasn’t about to refuse. Yata allowed himself a tense, excited grin, shifting his weight back onto his shoulders again. “Seriously, you’re putting it in this time, got it?”

He got back an amused huff and a slightly predatory smirk. “I don’t need you to tell me,” Saruhiko murmured, inching forward until he had Yata’s hips supported in his lap, and then turning to reach for the bottle again.

“Heh! Never know with you.” The new position wasn’t uncomfortable, but it took a little adjusting. Yata shifted a bit so his back wasn’t bent so awkwardly and licked his lips without thinking as he watched Saruhiko unwrap the condom package. “You’re doing that first?”

“It didn’t exactly work well the other way, did it?” As he watched, Saruhiko’s deft fingers positioned the condom, pinching the top and unrolling the rest carefully down along the hard line of his cock.

It was kind of a fascinating sight. “How’d you learn to do that?”

He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble; somehow, despite the flush and the very evident desire, Saruhiko could still manage a condescending look. “There’s this very useful source of information known as the Internet – have you heard of it?”

Yata shot him an irritated frown. “Yeah, okay, I get it – you don’t need to be a prick about it.”

“Never know with you,” Saruhiko echoed back at him, without remorse, and offered back a lazy smirk. “Right, Misaki?”

Ugh. “Just – just get on with it already.” Yata scowled, still too impatient to turn this into a real argument. He squirmed a bit as Saruhiko turned again to retrieve the bottle. “Asshole.”

“If you say so,” Saruhiko drawled back, generously coating his fingers.

This was it. Yata willed himself to relax, anticipation and excitement battling it out within him. “Y-yeah.”

There was the usual pause once those slick digits were in position at the base of his ass. “Okay?”

Yata let his eyes go lidded, directly a heated grin back up at his boyfriend. “You better be kidding.”

Saruhiko’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. One of his fingers pressed through the tight ring of muscle, easing into Yata’s body cautiously.

It was still kind of a weird feeling, but with the memory of last time to fuel him, the intrusion felt a lot more erotic. Yata found it easier to relax, breathing out and shutting his eyes briefly as the finger wriggled slightly and then withdrew. He barely felt the discomfort when Saruhiko came back with two, and the scissoring motions made him feel oddly stretched.

There was no attempt to hit that magic spot from before. Yata wasn’t sure if he was happy about that; it was probably for the best, but… damnit, it had felt really good. He could already feel his abdomen quiver with anticipation, and clenched his teeth as another little bead of moisture pooled at the head of his dick.

_Just fucking wait, okay?_

There was more of a sting with three fingers, but nothing major. Yata couldn’t even say if he minded the feeling; pain seemed pretty damn different when it was blended with the arousal coursing through his body. The hurt almost felt satisfying, in a way. It was weird, but… not bad.

“How does that feel?” Saruhiko asked; when he looked up, he was being studied intently.

Yata summoned up a smirk in response. “No big deal – I got this!”

“’No big deal’, huh?” Saruhiko’s mouth turned up at the corners, a hint of something wicked in his eyes, and quirked his fingers inward, probing.

“What the fuck are you – ?” The rest of that demand was lost in a half-gasping moan as sensation flooded his body. Yata clenched his fingers against the bedcover, panting as he recovered, and directed a heated glare back up. “Goddamnit, Saruhiko!”

“Sorry.” There wasn’t a trace of real remorse in his voice. Saruhiko’s gaze had gone lidded and dark with desire. “I had to make sure I could find it.”

Somehow, he couldn’t help but huff out a brief laugh, managing a rueful smile. “The hell kind of excuse is that?”

Saruhiko hummed low in response, withdrawing his fingers. “I like your reactions.”

That soft admission was enough to send a shiver down his spine. “Yeah, well… I wanna see yours too!” Impulsively, he blurted out, “Just fuck me already – c’mon!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely...” The words had a lilt, but there was tension in them, too. Yata tilted his head up to watch as Saruhiko poured more lube onto his palm and then wrapped his hand around his dick, spreading it across the surface of the condom.

The sight of him working himself over was lewd as hell – even more so when Yata tore his eyes away long enough to get a glimpse of Saruhiko’s expression. His eyes were closed, lips parted, expression tightening briefly as his hand moved on his cock.

It reminded him of last night, when Saruhiko had bent over him, looking almost crazed as he frantically brought himself to orgasm…

_Shit._ Too good.

Saruhiko’s hand stilled, sliding to the base of his dick. His eyes opened and the expression on his face shifted to one of concentration as he positioned himself. The tip of his erection prodded against the puckered muscle at the base of Yata’s ass.

Once again, he paused there. “All right?”

For fuck’s sake. “You’re asking that _now?_ ” Yata hefted himself onto his shoulders again, lifting his legs to brace his heels against Saruhiko’s back, insistently. “Do it already, Saruhiko!”

He got a half-heartedly clicked tongue for his trouble. “You’re so demanding,” Saruhiko mumbled, and slid his free hand around to brace at Yata’s hip, the other still holding the base of his cock as he pressed forward.

That – okay, it _did_ hurt. Yata breathed out, forcing the muscles that had tensed instinctively against the sharp sting to relax as the head of Saruhiko’s erection pushed through the initial ring of resistance. It stretched, it hurt, and he was suddenly very thankful they were going slow, because if Saruhiko had thrust into him carelessly, it could’ve been much worse. He forced himself to take in another long breath, shut his eyes, and let it out slowly.

_S’not that bad. I got this._

“Misaki?” Saruhiko’s voice sounded strange – a mix of anxiety, wariness, and tight control. Yata opened his eyes and took in the tense line of his boyfriend’s face. He was clenching his teeth, squinting down at Yata with intense concentration, obviously trying to curb his own instincts. His movement had stilled, but his fingers pressed hard into Yata’s hip, trembling noticeably.

It was endearing in some way. Yata couldn’t help but smile a bit despite the lingering traces of discomfort as the pain slowly started to ease off and stretched his arm up, brushing his fingers along the tight line of Saruhiko’s cheek. “I’m good – I got this, remember?” When their gazes locked, his smile widened. “I’ll say stop if I need it, okay? Trust me.”

Saruhiko shut his eyes, leaning into the touch with a shuddering sigh. “I’m trying,” he mumbled, and opened them again to give Yata a narrow look. “Don’t hold back if it hurts, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” At that, he couldn’t help but smirk, withdrawing his hand to lie back again. The initial pain from the penetration had mostly faded, and somehow the thick, hard reality of Saruhiko’s dick in his body felt satisfying now. Almost good. “Don’t get too full of yourself. I can take whatever you dish out, jerk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Saruhiko’s lips quirked again into the tiniest hint of a smile, and then he was moving forward again, shifting to fully bury himself within Yata.

Without the pain, the slide gave off that erotic feel he remembered from the fingers – multiplied by the thickness and the reality of that being _his boyfriend’s goddamn cock_ already, holy shit. Yata bit his lip, his own neglected dick sending another sharp little twinge of pleasure through his body. The shivering feel around that fullness was really something else.

Even without that sweet spot being hit, this was fucking intense. Intimate. _Hell_.

“Fucking move,” he breathed out, after Saruhiko had fully seated himself. “Saruhiko…”

“Misaki…” There was a note of desperation in the response. Saruhiko pulled back, the catch and pull causing Yata’s breath to hitch, and then plunged back in with one smooth motion, drawing gasps from both of them in sync.

Fuck. It still kinda stung, but the movement within him was so satisfying, he didn’t really care. Yata curled his hands into fists, resisting the urge to reach down and give his cock a good few strokes. He wouldn’t stop if he did that now. “Feels… good,” he managed to grit out, staring hazily up at Saruhiko’s face.

It really was a sight – the expression was tense with pleasure and barely held restraint. “Yeah,” Saruhiko practically moaned in response, sounding almost completely wrecked, and then his eyes abruptly narrowed, and he reached out so both of his hands were braced on Yata’s hips, pulling out again and thrusting in deep and hard.

Yata clenched his teeth a moan, back arching at the rush of sensation. His fists dug into the mattress as Saruhiko let out a soft whine and began to thrust in earnest, his cock sliding in and out of Yata’s body in steadily increasing rhythm.

It felt so damn good. Giving up the fight, Yata unclenched one fist and reached with shaking fingers to take his own dick in hand, thumbing the head as he gave it a squeeze and curling his toes helplessly behind Saruhiko’s back at the additional surge of pleasure. He began to move, unable to hold back a little whimper as he matched his motions with the pace of Saruhiko’s thrusting.

_Shit… I’m not gonna last long…_ Tension was already building in his lower belly, pleasure mounting fast throughout his body. Yata squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them again to stare up at Saruhiko’s desperate expression, struggling to delay his orgasm a little longer.

Saruhiko’s eyes met his, frenzied and hot, and then he shifted Yata’s hips, thrusting at a different angle and – _Fuck!_

Intense pleasure flooded his system, seeming to spread out to all the pores on Yata’s body. He cried out, the hand on his cock faltering as he shuddered, his other hand tightening almost painfully. One more thrust – the fisted hand hammered against the bed helplessly – two – Yata threw his head back, another cry escaping through painfully clenched teeth as he stared desperately at the hazy sight of Saruhiko’s face – three – he was too far gone to process much else besides the need to come, and he was so close, right at the edge – four –

His entire body stiffened, shuddering with the intensity of the orgasm that throbbed through him. Yata’s cock jerked in his still hand, hot fluid spurting from the tip as he half-sobbed out some kind of shaky moan, pleasure clouding every sense as the release washed over his body.

Saruhiko’s erection was still moving within him, erratic thrusts causing Yata to twitch in response, the continued stimulation drawing more intense sensation from his over-sensitive body. Saruhiko was breathing heavily, clearly at his limit; as Yata stared blurrily up at him, his face twisted up with desperation, movements becoming more frenzied.

It was incredibly sexy. Yata was still staring, shivering through the aftermath, as Saruhiko suddenly tensed and shuddered violently. He let out a low, helpless moan as his cock jolted within Yata’s body, the force of his orgasm causing him to slump forward. His entire body trembled, chest rising and falling and eyes closed as he fought for breath.

There was a moment of stillness between them as they came down, the air cooling rapidly in the wake of sexual gratification.

Yata let his legs flop, all of the energy seeming to have drained out of him with the release of pleasurable tension. His brain was blissfully blank, and his body felt gross, but… sated. Incredibly so. It was like that was the orgasm he’d been waiting his whole life for.

_Okay, maybe that’s kinda dumb._

Saruhiko raised his eyes slowly, wearily, and Yata felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as their gazes met. “Damn,” he said, with feeling. “That was…” It took him a moment to draw up the right words in his satiated brain. “… fucking _good_.”

“Mm.” Saruhiko shut his eyes briefly, a small answering smile on his lips. “Yeah.”

Once again, Yata gave in to the urge to reach up and touch his face, and again, Saruhiko pressed into the contact, opening his eyes to gaze at Yata with a complicated mess of confusion, fondness and maybe a slight edge of panic.

Yata let out a breath, smile tilting up on one side. “Don’t freak out, huh?”

At that, Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frowning slightly. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He straightened with some effort, reaching down to hold the edges of the condom as he extracted his softening cock from Yata’s body.

One last little shudder ran through him as they separated. Saruhiko tied off the condom, tossing it into the small trash bin beside his computer desk, and turned his head to squint at Yata again.

That felt like a cue, somehow. _Hell, why not?_ Yata spread his arms, offering a little shrug and wiggling his fingers meaningfully.

He got a flat stare for his trouble. “Seriously? Right now?”

“Huh? What’s wrong with right now?” Yata frowned back, confused and slightly irritated by the reaction. _The hell is his problem?_

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frowning back. “We’re both disgusting right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The frown shifted to a scowl. “After all that shit we just did, you’re gonna tell me that cuddling after sex is disgusting? What the hell, Saruhiko?” When he didn’t get anything back besides a deeper frown and another clicked tongue, Yata gritted his teeth, determination overriding the loose relaxation that had struck through all of his muscles. He pushed himself up hastily, flipping forward onto his knees and rising up to straddle Saruhiko’s lap before he could retreat. “You’re really fucking annoying sometimes, you know that?” he muttered, bringing up both hands to cup his boyfriend’s startled face.

The surprise settled into a mix of irritation, wariness, and something that might have been reluctant pleasure – Saruhiko clicked his tongue a third time, but made no move to pull back. “Look who’s talking,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, whatever.” Yata grinned, a little rush of triumph running through him with the victory, and carefully tipped Saruhiko’s face up so he could lean in to kiss him gently.

The contact was soft and undemanding without the drive of hormones behind it. Yata felt that separate thrill stir within him – the one with all the feelings behind it that he hadn’t quite sorted out enough to put into words. And despite his earlier protest, Saruhiko seemed to melt against him, hands winding slowly around his back, eyes fluttering shut, pressing up into the kiss as if he’d been drowning for it.

_This really is the best._ When they broke apart, Yata smiled down at him, his heart so full he’d thought it could burst at any second. “See? You get my point now, right?”

Saruhiko let out what sounded like an aggrieved sigh, without opening his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata let his hands slide downward, lightly fingering the purpling marks on Saruhiko’s shoulders. “At least I didn’t bruise you this time.”

“True.” At that, Saruhiko did open his eyes, a lazy little smirk spreading on his lips. “You’ll have to try harder next time, won’t you, Misaki?”

“Eh?” Yata blinked at him, startled, and then – despite _everything_ , still – felt a rush of hot embarrassment crawling up his cheeks. “A-are you serious? You want me to – ?”

“Mm.” Saruhiko interrupted him with a low, teasing hum, ducking forward to bury his face in Yata’s neck and nuzzling his nose against the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You smell,” he breathed out, without making any move to pull back. “You need to bathe, Misaki.”

The intimate motion increased the flustered warmth; Yata floundered for a moment, torn between pulling back and relishing the pleasant sensation. “L-look who’s talking, you jerk! You’re not exactly smelling like roses yourself, y’know!”

“I’ll come along then,” Saruhiko drawled, pulling back slowly to fix him with one of those smoldering gazes beneath his lashes.

Hell, he was weak to that look. Yata swallowed, inexplicably nervous, and managed a small, rueful smile in return. “You’re fucking impossible.”

“You’re dating me.”

_Heh. Yeah._ The smile widened a little at that. “That’s right.” At the back of his head, the beginning of a plan was forming – it was simple and maybe a little on the embarrassing side, but if he waited for the right moment, it’d probably be pretty satisfying. Yata let his eyes grow lidded, confidence returning, and lowered his voice purposefully. “You’re mine, Saruhiko.”

Those blue eyes widened, an endearingly startled look flashing across Saruhiko’s face for one telling second. Then his expression settled, a hint of wry amusement tipping up the corners of his mouth again. “Having sex unlocked your unexpectedly bold side, I see.”

“Heh!” Yata grinned back, satisfied with the reaction. “Just stating a fact.”

“Is that so?” Saruhiko leaned in to bury his face against the side of Yata’s neck again. In a mumble so low that Yata almost didn’t catch it, he added, “Well, you’re also mine. Misaki.”

There it was again – that surge of emotion flooding his body and filling his soul. Yata let his arms slide gently around Saruhiko’s shoulders, shutting his eyes as he smiled to himself. “Yeah, sure.”

Good enough for now.

 

* * *

 

 

When he woke the next morning, Fushimi’s brain was sending him signals that something was off before he was conscious enough to realize exactly what it was.

They hadn’t slept right away the previous night; after bathing, Misaki had decided to use up some of the ingredients he’d brought over and made fried rice. Watching him surreptitiously from his computer desk, Fushimi privately felt he showed a ridiculous amount of energy for someone who’d had an orgasm less than half an hour ago. _He_ still felt physically drained, though his mind was active enough to replay the events of the evening in the background for his entertainment.

_Just what I need._ Despite the thought, it was a pleasant distraction. Misaki’s touch and Misaki’s reactions and the feel of Misaki’s body surrounding him…

Well. He didn’t mind so much.

They’d eaten together at the small table that had been a housewarming gift from Munakata back when he’d moved to this apartment – which he customarily kept stowed in a corner because he couldn’t be bothered to make any kind of meal that couldn’t be eaten at his desk anyway. All the little irritations seemed to fade into the background when he sat there with Misaki. It was a silly moment: two full-grown men sitting down to a meal in their underwear, on the floor because he didn’t even have cushions to sit on, and with Misaki’s “Yata-rice”, which Fushimi wasn’t entirely sure if he liked – though he at least had to admit he didn’t particularly dislike it either. But Misaki’s smile was bright, his reactions to Fushimi’s teasing about the pineapple he’d included were lively and unrestrained, and something like quiet contentment seemed to settle within him as they shared something as simple and casual as a late meal.

Even discounting the sex – which, admittedly, had been amazing – it was a good night.

It didn’t explain the strangeness, but as Fushimi drifted towards consciousness, that quickly became clear.

There was something warm pressed against him – warm and _moving_ – and a pleasant, hot suction at the base of his neck, punctuated by irregular puffs of air. The sensation felt nice enough that a tiny moan escaped his throat before he was fully awake; as he stirred, the presence against him broke off, though it didn’t move out of his personal space.

_Payback, huh?_ The thought wormed its way into his mind even before he cracked his eyes open and caught the blurry but unmistakable image of Misaki’s lazy smirk in front of him.

“Morning,” Misaki greeted him, sounding a bit smug about it.

“Mmph.” Fushimi shut his eyes, let out a tired sigh, and fumbled for his glasses. “What time is it?”

“Dunno.” Misaki’s expression came into focus as he slide the frames up over his nose; his gaze was fond and more than a little pleased with himself. “Not like either of us works today.”

That was true. Traditionally, Fushimi did go into work on Sundays, although he sometimes slept a bit later first. Since entering this relationship, though, he hadn’t bothered unless there was some urgent work to finish.

“I guess.” Fushimi felt the tug of a wry smile and didn’t bother to resist it. “You were that eager to return the favor from before, huh?”

“Yeah,” Misaki admitted without any trace of shame. His grin widened, eyes going lidded with a kind of triumph. “Wouldn’t be the same if you woke up first, would it?”

He couldn’t help the amused snort at that. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you started it.”

That was true – though now, with the cold air hitting the wet patch on his neck, Fushimi felt like trying to reset that smug look on Misaki’s face. Not so much because it was irritating – though it kind of was – but he still felt the lingering traces of contentment from the previous night, and Misaki’s eyes were warm, lidded, and bright over his wide smile. Something about that tugged at him.

_Well, it doesn’t matter._ Pushing the thoughts aside, Fushimi reached out to brush his fingers along the line of Misaki’s cheek. It worked wonders – Misaki’s eyes fluttered shut, smile losing a little of that obnoxious edge and softening out. When he opened his eyes, most everything was gone but the fondness. “Saruhiko,” he murmured, reaching up to set his hand over Fushimi’s and gently hold it in place.

“Morning,” he offered belatedly, shifting forward to close the distance between them and capture Misaki’s lips.

There was no heat in the kiss – just a simple confirmation of closeness. One of those things about being a couple: kissing for no particular reason, other than that it felt good and the mood struck. Like sitting at a table eating a meal in their underwear. Or sharing a bathroom despite the fact that there wasn’t any room to do so comfortably.

That was it, Fushimi realized, pulling back from the kiss slowly and opening his eyes. As Misaki’s face shifted back into focus, he felt he could place that contentment. It felt like belonging. Not quite like coming to terms with belonging at Scepter 4, but something more basic. Comfortable. Like _home_.

_Home, huh?_

Well, it was probably about time to say something, anyway – it wouldn’t make any sense to put this off. Fushimi drew in a breath, deliberately squashing the irrational stirring of dread at the pit of his stomach. “I thought about what you said last time,” he started, slowly. “About moving in.”

He heard the swift intake of breath even before he noticed Misaki’s eyes widening; it was possible to see the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed. “Yeah?”

_At least I’m not the only one feeling anxious about this._ Fushimi resisted the urge to click his tongue out of habit. “How do you feel about doing it gradually?”

Misaki’s brow furrowed. “’Gradually’?” he repeated. “What d’you mean?”

“I could move the rest of my things into your place,” Fushimi explained, keeping his voice deliberately dry and even. It was irritating how uneasy he felt about this, but it couldn’t be helped. There was nothing else to do but forge on. “But I want to keep this apartment.”

The frown on Misaki’s face deepened as he considered that. After a moment of silence, he said, slowly, “So… you’re saying you want a back-up.” His gaze was direct. “Like a trial run or something. Right?”

“That’s one way to put it.” It came out in a drawl, but Fushimi forced himself to continue to meet those straightforward eyes squarely.

_Is he going to be offended?_ In the cynical part of his brain, he thought he could see the fight play out already.

Then Misaki took in a breath, and let it out in a rush, his shoulders seeming to slump. “Man! That’s a huge relief!” His face lit up with a grin, eyes bright again. “I thought you were gonna tell me we had to move one thing over every month or something! Seriously, don’t scare me like that, Saruhiko!”

It was such a typical reaction that he felt like he shouldn’t have been surprised, but Fushimi still blinked in response. “You’re okay with it?”

“Hell yeah, I’m okay with it!” Misaki beamed at him, unmasked enthusiasm seeming to radiate from him. “This is gonna be awesome! No more back and forth – just one place, with all of our stuff, and we’ll both have keys and all…” He paused, seeming to think for a brief second, and then continued on with, “At some point, we gotta get a bigger place, though, right? I mean, there’s two of us.”

“You don’t say.” It came out dry, but Fushimi couldn’t help but smile faintly. It felt like the instinctual dread that had coiled into a cold ball in his stomach had been softened and quieted with this reaction. “Let’s see how things go before talking about that, hm?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Even the initial sarcasm didn’t seem to dim Misaki’s mood. “So? When d’you wanna start moving your shit? Pretty sure I could get some of my friends to help on short notice, like next week even if you’re cool with it – ”

Right, there was that to deal with, wasn’t there? Fushimi clicked his tongue, already predicting the headache. “I’ll think about it.”

“Right, okay.” Misaki accepted that easily, obviously still riding the high he’d gotten when Fushimi had accepted. He pushed himself up, stretching. “All right! Guess I’ll make us some breakfast, then!”

It was an impulsive decision – not like him at all, really – but somehow as Misaki pushed aside the covers, smiling like he’d never been happier in his life, ready to jump up and make them a breakfast for two, Fushimi found himself reaching out to hook an arm around his waist and anchor him.

“Eh? Sa… Saruhiko?”

A little tug was all it took to bring him back down to the bed. Without pausing to second guess it, Fushimi pushed himself up on his elbow and then rolled to cover Misaki’s body with his. “First things first,” he drawled, watching with satisfaction as an endearing flush rose on Misaki’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be so impatient.”

Heat was already building in their shared gaze even as he got the words out. “You coulda just said something, asshole,” Misaki muttered, but there was a smile in his eyes all the same.

When Fushimi ducked his head, the kiss was met partway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read all the way through this self-indulgent smut! I'm so happy to have written this verse and it was definitely fun to write them having sex as well. ;) I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
